Working for a Psycho
by imagination2479
Summary: Working for the Joker can be a pain...
1. Chapter 1: The Great Escape

The sirens grew louder with every step I took. The cops were after me for the third time that month, and this time they were catching up faster than I thought they ever could. Which was a very bad problem. Solution to the problem: Run faster. I darted through the streets. Hopping over puddles of rainwater left from the night before, and staying deep in the shadows of buildings to keep from being seen from the flashing blue and red lights and the people that were still up. That was a lot of people.

It was Saturday night; families were still up, light streaming through their windows. There were also the weekend partygoers. People of all ages club hopping and wandering the streets; that left coverage though. I could easily hide in the crowds of people. I just had to keep my spoils close. But it was really simple nowadays. Stealing I mean. Crime happened so often, that in a few days everyone would completely forget about a few stacks of green…

I was still running, heading for the southern end of town. I would hide there for a while before heading home. At the thought of home my stomach growled. I laughed; I forgot to eat before I left the bank. I was going to take a chocolate covered donut from the pile that had been sitting on the counter. Honestly, who leaves a plate of delicious donuts at a bank after hours? What a waste. But it was strange I had forgotten about them when the fuzz arrived. I never forget food.

I slowed down near the block of strip clubs. Walking through the throngs of people and prostitutes that loitered around the sidewalks. I looked around, before I saw bright blue hair. I ran up to the girl with blue clothes, blue hair, blue nails, and blue make-up. "Hey." I greeted.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the blue girl asked, as she took a bite of the burger she was holding.

"Hungry." I said as I took a big bite out of her burger. She didn't mind.

"How much did you get?" the girl asked, pointing to the backpack I was wearing. I stashed the cash in my school bag, so what? Only an idiot would go around with a bag with a huge green dollar sign on it.

"Enough." was all I could say. The sirens were getting louder every second.

"Run!" the girl hissed at me, when the lights began to flash on the pavement.

I did. I zoomed past the blue lady and a bunch of other girls with skimpy clothes. After a few minutes of running I was in the ghetto of Gotham. Where the buildings were filthy and everything looked dead. No one was out tonight, and only one or two lights were on in the widows. I zigzagged through the maze of crumbling buildings. Broken glass and garbage littered the ground. The soles of my black tennis shoes were so worn out and thin, I could feel the small rocks and shards of the glass under my feet.

I laughed to myself, as I got deeper into the maze. The more I ran in random directions, the fainter the sirens became. It took a lot of stamina, but if I just kept moving the police would give up their chase and forget about me…again! They always forgot, sooner or later.

There would be an article about me in the paper tomorrow. Not on the front page, a small robbery didn't make the cut. No tomorrow a picture of Batman in action would be plastered on the cover, and my story would be nine lines long in one of the paper's borders, they always were. The media was all about Batman. Batman, Batman, Batman, everyone loves Batman, except maybe…a few people in prison, and nearly everyone in Arkham…

When I couldn't hear the sirens anymore, I stopped for a breather in a narrow alley. The buildings were close together, and so tall, that no light from the moon reached the bottom. It was excellent cover. I couldn't even see my hand when I waved it in front of my face. I sat down with a sigh between two dumpsters. I needed to think over what I'd done.

Replaying my situations was a ritual I followed every time after a bust. I thought it over slowly. This had been one of my best break-ins yet. But that was only natural. After a myriad of robberies, it gets easier, and you're able to steal more each time. Over the months I've learned a few things. I listed them in my head.

1: Only grab what you can carry

2: Take things that are worth taking

3: Don't make the robbery obvious, like busting out of the bank with bags of money

4: Don't get caught

5: Don't spend the loot to fast

6: Never leave a trail

7: Don't let anyone or anything see your face

8: Rob at night (coverage!)

9: Don't leave an unnecessary or accidental trail of money after you run away

I had a story for every rule, and not all of them were my own. I learned from others mistakes, picking out the flaws of their plans for robbery, and then making them my own. My favorite was when the Joker had robbed a bank, killed his co-workers, loaded the money onto a school bus, then broke through the cement walls just in time to join a procession of school buses on their way to a field tip. Good stuff. But that was what I had learned from my nine months of robbing. I laughed quietly again. Tonight my bag was filled with paper that had Ben Franklin's face on them. It wasn't a lot, just a few thousand. I could have stolen a lot more, but I just take what I need. I have to admit, I took a little more than usual this time. But I wanted Ashley to stay of the streets for a while. Take a vacation so she could spend three months of summer break with me.

I stood up after a long moment. I left the alley, and walked slowly down the street. Glancing into a window with the lights on, I had intruded on a family dinner. They were too busy talking and eating to notice me gawking at them. It was a family of five. A mom, a dad, a boy, and two girls. Sitting around a dining table enjoying the food that was set in front of them. They were chattering away. Asking each other how their days had gone. It was strange seeing such a warm friendly sight, out here in the cold broken side of the city. After a minute I felt guilty watching them and walked away.

I wanted a dad, and I wanted my mom back. I don't know why they had left us here all alone. Neither Ashley nor me had done anything to deserve it, I think. Yes, I stole. But that didn't start until after mom died. Dad left a long time ago… What else was I suppose to do? Ashley and me didn't want to get shipped off to an orphanage, only to get separated in the end.

Ashley had tried her best supporting us, taking on a bunch of low paying jobs. But she was miserable. She hated all of them with a passion. Plus, they didn't bring in enough cash. So now, Ashley was a seventeen-year-old hooker, and I took up robbing to support her lavish life-style. Our jobs didn't really make us happy, but at the end of the day, when we looked over all the money we had raked in, you just have to smile.

I walked a little faster, determined to get home before dinner got cold. When something stopped me. I stood right in front of another dark alley, straining my ears. Had I just been hearing things, or was someone breathing down in the darkness? Then I heard it again. Ragged breathing. The deep intake of breath was shaky, and the exhale slow and tortured. I turned slowly to face the pitch-black alley. The breathing was unbearable; it made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was too scared to move, but too curious to walk away.

I could make a break for it now, and run home. Or I could listen to my curiosity and walk into uncertain doom. Curiosity got the better of me, forcing my feet to move down into the depths of the alley. The buildings were shorter here. In the back of the alley was an expanse of cement wall. Only one ray of silvery moonlight, streamed over the top of the buildings. Settling its gaze over a cement box, with a thick iron grate placed on top of it.

The breathing was louder the closer I got to the box, and soon the tips of my shoes were touching the concrete. I examined it carefully. The breathing was coming from inside, but when I peered into it, there was nothing but dark. I stared at the grate, wondering if I could pull it off, but upon closer inspection, I saw that the grate was locked in place.

Then I noticed something. I don't know how I could have missed it. The grate was moving. It moved in time with the breathing. It rose and fell, rose and fell, slowly, matching the ragged breathing. The grate was like a metal chest. A chill ran up my spine. I was scared. But I was never scared. Yet still, the breathing had pulled something, making me want to scream my head off in fright.

I had had the exact same feeling once before. I could feel the memory sitting in the back of my mind, smiling at me with a creepy smile so wide, it was already stretched past it's own face. I couldn't remember the details, but I'm sure it had to do with a clown…

I shrugged it all off. The fear, the creepy thoughts, none had a place in my body. I turned around, ready to leave the alley. But I felt myself blackout for a moment. It felt like I was in someone else's body. I couldn't feel myself move, but I saw myself whip around and kick the lock off. Everything was sharp through my eyes. My surrounding's were crystal clear, so clear even, that I could see right through the darkness of the cement box, where I saw a tall, slim silhouette.

I jumped back when I saw that too familiar smile. If only those crooked lips, red as blood, would stop following me. There was a low cackle that rose from the cement box, before the iron grate burst open, rising a few feet in the air before falling to the ground with an ear-deafening clang.

I stumbled back, trying to avoid the heavy iron from crushing me as it fell. I landed on my butt, a wide smile was planted on my face, but I had no idea why. My eyes wide in shock as the silhouette practically flew into the air, then gracefully landed in front of me.

My grin instantly faded when the circle of light revealed who had escaped. I had made a guess it would be him when I saw his smile. But I thought perhaps it was a trick of the eyes, playing a very filthy trick on me. I was, very unfortunately, wrong. His hair was plain green. With chalky white skin, dark circles around his eyes, and bright red lips that spread past his mouth, the Joker looked like a psychotic clown. The point that he was also wearing a straightjacket only heightened his deranged appearance.

The Joker took a deep breath of fresh air. His grin widened when he saw me. He stalked toward me, ripping off the straight jacket as if it were paper while he went along, like he could have done it anytime. "Thank you my dear. I must say, I never could have done it without you." his voice was sugary. When he was only a foot away, he held out my hand. Offering to help me up.

Long forgotten anger boiled inside me, threatening to spill over at any moment. With a great unnoticeable effort I hid the hatred from him.

But I frowned and got up myself. "Mr. J." I greeted through gritted teeth.

"Why, no one's called me that in a while."

"Nine months, and three days." I spat. "That's how long it's been." That's how long he's been in the asylum. That's how long my mom's been dead. That's how long I've been stealing.

"Do you keep tabs on me little lady?" he asked.

I felt my face twist with disgust. "I don't have time for a creep like you." I said.

"I can assure you, I am no creep. Simply a clown."

"A psychotic clown."

"Do you know who I am little lady?"

"Bobo the bozo clown?" my voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Guess again."

I sighed; I didn't think he'd keep asking. When I called him that a year ago he was always pissed off. Could nine months of solitude erase all memory of me? "The Joker?" I finally forced it out of my mouth.

"Correct!" the Joker clapped his hands, and a burst of confetti appeared out of nowhere.

There was a pause, as I watched the Joker jump around happily. "So what are you going to do now Mr. J? Mess with peoples lives or jeopardize your own?" I had to ask. Although I disliked the Joker, his ideals were interesting.

"A little of both really." he smiled.

"Good luck with that." I laughed before turning around to leave, not wanting to get too deep into conversation. Ashley was going to kill me when I told her I'd helped the Joker out.

"Don't you want to hear my ideas?" he had caught up, walking by my side.

"Not really." I lied, speeding up.

"The job of my partner is wide open." He said, keeping in perfect pace with me.

I stopped walking. "Nothing you say will make me work for you." I hissed.

He laughed for what seemed like forever, "Little lady, I'll make you a deal you'll can't say no to."


	2. Chapter 2: Saved by the Psycho

I woke up to sizzling bacon and the familiar smell of Ashley cooking breakfast. Although the food smelled delicious, I was still too tired and dizzy to wake up. My body felt slightly numb, but I could feel a tingling sensation on my nose. I go to rub my nose with my hand, only to receive a face-full of something creamy. My eyes wrenched open, and I found myself staring into the cool green eyes of my sister; who was giggling uncontrollably.

I got up and stalked into the kitchen. I could still hear her laughing in the living room when I wiped off the cream with a wet paper towel. Ashley came in; still giggling; and put a can of _Redi Whip _back into the fridge. "Mornin' sissy." she smiled merrily when her laughing subsided. "Morning." I replied as I pulled my school bag from under the dining table.

I was already used to Ashley's annoying wake up calls. Cold water splashed onto my face, blow horn in my ear, rolling me into the lawn…I woke to them all. But she made up for it when it came to breakfast. Blueberry bagels with loads of cream cheese, chocolate chip pancakes, strawberry waffles, crispy bacon, toast with home made jam, fresh fruits, crepes, the list goes on (all from scratch might I add!)

I unloaded my bags contents onto the table, as Ashley set down two plates piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausages onto the table. Ashley couldn't take her eyes of the pile of money I had poured out from my bag. She stared at the mountain of green favorably before giving me an admiring gaze.

"You're the best sissy!" she squealed, as she scooped up a stack of bills. She flicked through it. Her smile was so wide it seemed to stretch off her face. I waited patiently, knowing what would come. As I had guest it my sister's smile grew as she gawked greedily at the pile of stolen money.

"There's more money then last time…" her voice trailed off.

I smiled, "Yeah, I thought we would need more money to spend over the summer."

She grinned at me. "Anyway sissy," Ashley began, as she scooped the money into a large glass jar. "You should be more careful. The police almost caught you last night!" Ashley hoisted the full jar onto the fridge, where another three or four jars stood. Some also full, one completely empty and the others in between.

"Although it's great money, it's not right to steal." again my sister had turned from a greedy little girl into my wise older sister.

"Although it's great money, it's illegal to solicit." I countered quickly. Ashley gave me a solemn look before slipping into one of the dining room chairs. I sank into my chair with a sigh. I knew she hated prowling street corners all night.

"How was work?" I asked, shoveling eggs into my mouth.

"Slow." she replied, taking her usual bird bites of food. I watched my sister across the table. She had a small figure, but I found her absolutely perfect. She sat, legs crossed, her back; straight as an arrow, barely touched the back of her chair. Ashley's posture was perfect, her eyes big and bright green. Her nose small and straight. Her lips full, her skin fair, and curves in all the right places. She wasn't smart; she had dropped out of high school in her freshman year; but whatever brains she lacked was made up for by her kindness.

"But of course everyone scrammed after the police came down the street after you." Ashley brushed a piece of her curly blonde hair behind her ear. She looked over at me sadly, "You should really be more careful." She said again, quietly. I looked down into my food. I couldn't keep her gaze with my own piercing green eyes. Ashley may have loved the money, but me stealing wasn't something she was very happy about.

I loved Ashley. I wanted her to be happy, have all the things mom couldn't give us…and if that meant putting my freedom on the line, so be it.

"I'm going out again tonight." I said after a moment.

"Again?" my sister asked. I nodded in reply. "Why?" she asked.

"Just once more. Before summer break starts." I lied. But Ashley smiled knowingly. I couldn't work up the nerve to tell her the real reason: that I intended to get caught tonight. It totally broke rule number four but…

After the dishes were washed and the table cleaned up, Ashley and I sat on the floor in the living room for our weekly movie day. Every Sunday we lounged in the living room and watched movies all day…even when mom was alive.

"Okay, so what movies should we see today?" I asked, scanning through the large collection of DVD's we had.

"How about these?" Ashley spread out her favorite movies on the crème colored carpet.

We were always at odds when it came to movies. Ashley loved romance films and any movie that starred hot guys without shirts on, while I enjoyed horrors and movies that were downright disturbing. After a lot of arguing we ended up watching a bunch of comedies.

Several hours later the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. Until finally streetlights and business lights flickered on. I left the house with my suitcase, waved bye to Ashley and took the bus to the middle of Gotham

I re-arranged my clothes and smoothed down my hair before walking confidently into the bank. It was empty, besides the tellers. "May I help you, Miss?" a redheaded women asked from behind the blue marble counter.

"Yes, I would like to make a withdrawal please." I mustered up my sweetest smile.

"Okay, do you have your account number?" I handed her my forged bankcard. The teller began typing furiously on her computer.

"Your account holds two million, four-hundred, seventy-two thousand dollars. How much would you like to withdrawal?" I thought for a moment. I was sure the account had more money than that. It was Bruce Wayne's for God's sakes. The man was a billionaire.

"All of it." I said, annoyed.

"That's a lot of money." She said typing more into the computer.

"Yeah, it's for this new game from Japan. Brings you straight into the game." I lied, "It's really expensive, but I think it'll be worth it." I smiled again. She smiled back.

There was a moment's pause before she pulled out stacks of one hundred dollar bills. I opened up my suitcase and began filling it with my newly acquired money.

"Well this is strange." She said, glancing at her computer again. "It seems that this is Bruce Wayne's account." I quickly snatched my fake bankcard. She stared at me for a moment, and then I saw her hand make for the under-side of the counter, clicking the alarm button, calling the cops.

"You're pretty dumb." I said; it had taken her a while to figure it out. "Thanks for your help Deb." I grinned maliciously as I read her name from her nametag. I darted out the front doors.

But too late.

I had completely forgotten that the police station was only a few minutes away. Come to think, I had even passed it on the way to the bank. _"Rookie move." _I thought to myself angrily; even if everything was going as planned, it still burned to be doing it.

It was only three police cars, their lights flashing as they pulled up on the curb, just as I left the banks doors. "Shit…" I mumbled, as six cops slid out of the cars with guns aimed right at me.

"Put your hands above your head." came a voice through a megaphone.

"They act like this is a negotiation." I grumbled. With Batman busting all the bad guys, the police started to go all out for any crime they could get their hands on.

"Where are you?" I muttered angrily under my breath, shifting the suitcase in my hands to get a better grip.

"We don't want to shoot you. Just put your hands above your head."

There was a sudden screech, and a colorfully painted van flew down the street, plowing into one of the cop cars. It rode up to meet me at the entrance of the bank. The side doors slid open, revealing three men with clown masks on. I could hear the bullets bouncing off the other side of the van as I jumped in. With another screech the van sped off again, plowing into a second car parked along the road.

It zipped through the streets, narrowly missing collision with several different vehicles. It sped all the way to the end of town, making unnecessary turns to lose any followers, until finally it crashed through the old carnivals rusted gates. The cops' far behind.


	3. Chapter 3: The Offer in the Fun House

The fat clown pulled up near the back entrance of the fun house. Twin clowns slid the side doors of the van open with a squeak. They hopped out, along with a fourth clown; who was carrying the suitcase filled with money.

I took an unsteady step forward after them, which turned out to be a bad idea. The dizzying ride had made me unbalanced. The fat clown had swerved and swiveled way too much. It was amazing that the tall lanky twins hadn't even shifted during the ride, even though it looked like they would fly away if caught up in the wind.

I chanced another step towards the exit of the van, this time falling forward. I felt like I was falling in slow motion, because the ground grew closer to my face for what seemed like forever. But I was too light headed and disoriented to even brace for the impact.

Suddenly I could feel an arm wrap around me, catching my fall. I stood unsteadily for a moment, until finally the world stopped spinning and my head stopped pounding painfully. "Thanks." I muttered when I saw the wicked face of the fourth clown's mask. "No prob." he replied. His voice was slightly muffled by the guise. It was sugary sweet and deep, but not as sickening as the Joker's voice was.

My face got warm, he had such a nice voice…but I still shivered as the night air stung at my bare arms. The fourth clown placed the thick leather jacket he had been wearing over my shoulders. "You look cold." He said. At that moment I wished I were wearing a mask too, to cover my beet red blush. His jacket smelled like _Axe _cologne, but the smell wasn't overpowering. Not like the other boys at school, who wore a lot of _Axe _to cover their B.O.

I followed the clowns, the fourth one at my side, towards the crumbling fun house, which was in the shape of a giant clown head. The gravel crunched underfoot, skeletons of trees and brambles were all that was left of the greenery. Litter was everywhere. Broken bottles, discarded chip bags. Even a forgotten pair of underwear or two.

I scanned the rest of the park. Old, rusted rides were all that was left. The roller coasters had gaps all over. The swings were barely hanging from their broken chains; still, they creaked and swayed ominously in the cold breeze. Strangely the concession stands were intact, and the food booths seemed to still have food in them. Though dusty, I could see bags of cotton candy hanging outside of one booth and popcorn still sitting in the machine, waiting to be scooped out. It was as if the whole park was just abandoned one day, and no one dared come back to clean it all up.

The fat clown was light on his feet, and seemed to have a spring in his step. While the twins; with their gangly limbs; stalked lazily after the fat clown, and the fourth clown with his evil mask walked with a lot of pride.

The inside of the fun house showed hardly any age at all. All of the fun mirrors were in perfect condition, not a crack or smudge in sight. I smiled at all my distorted figures as I passed them by. Some made my head shrink and grow. Others made me fat; others made me no more than a sliver.

Then came an array of floor tricks. We went though a large spinning barrel, and a floor that bounced up and down jerkily. The fat clown got stuck in a section where the steel floor tilted fro side to side.

Then came a brightly lit area where out of the ground came small jets of air, which the twins got tangled up in from trying to dodge every one. I was glad I was wearing my Capri pants instead of a skirt. Otherwise four clowns would have gotten a peek at the pink underwear I was wearing at the moment.

Next came a long tunnel with strobe lights that flashed different colors. At the end of the tunnel came large rotating disk, which had to be crossed to get to the other side. A spotlight lit up only the two tunnels and the disk in between. Everywhere else was dark, like falling of the edge of the disk was like falling into a bottomless ditch.

The fat clown went first, jumping onto the platform with astounding refinement. But the disk, still spinning, sunk down by his weight. I realized that the disk was probably spinning on a small point, threatening to tip over and send the passenger tumbling into the endless shadows. Still with more shocking poise, the fat clown tip-toed around the edge of the disk; his hands outstretched like he was balancing a trapeze wire, until jumping once more, and gracefully landing on the other side.

Next were the twins, who clumsily stepped onto the disk at once. It did not tip as dangerously as it had for the fat clown, but it still sunk slightly. They each stood at opposite ends, letting the disk spin them around. Until one twin hopped into the opposite tunnel, followed by the second. I stared at the fourth clown, waiting for him to go next. But instead he waved his hand towards the spinning top, indicating I go first.

I smiled up at him before stepping onto the disk. It didn't budge under my weight, so I easily just walked across to the other end, before stepping off at the right moment. I glanced back to watch the fourth clown. He had only taken three bounds and already he was standing by my side.

"Nice job, Ace." he said, I could tell by his voice he was smiling. Throughout the whole house, he had shown just how much grace he had. It almost seemed he had grown up wandering the halls of this particular fun house…

We traveled through the last tunnel before entering a large hall. It was empty, besides a few rows of seats along the sides of the walls. I looked around; it was plain with dull wood beams and walls. But when I looked forward again the fat clown and the twins had vanished. I looked around; I couldn't see them.

Before I knew it I had fallen straight into a trap door in the ground and landed hard on my butt. The surface below me cold and shiny, I was on a slide. It wound downwards for a long way, twisting and turning in random directions. Then I landed in a sea of colorful plastic balls.

I didn't know how, but we had all ended up falling into a bright room. The floors and walls and ceiling gleamed newly polished wood. There were tables dotted around, all with different color table cloths, clean ceramic white plates and a vase that stood in the center of each round table, all with identical red carnations in them. What took up most of the room was a long semi-circle stage at the front of the room. It's velvet curtains closed.

The fourth clown signaled for me to sit at a table up front, where a white tag sat, 'RESERVED' elegantly scrawled on it. The fourth clown pulled a seat out for me and I sat down, while the twins pulled the curtains open. Revealing a beautiful throne, with high back and purple velvet plush lining the gold seat. The Joker sat cross-legged with a crown on his head and a handsome cape draped over his shoulders.

"Good evening ladies and gents." his voice echoed throughout the room. "Thank you all for joining us tonight for this very special occasion." he stood up. I looked around. Although I already knew it, I had to check and see that the room was empty besides me and the clowns. It was.

"Tonight we are celebrating young miss Alexis." he smiled at me. "Who has accepted becoming one of my official jesters!" he continued. "Under the terms and circumstances of course." he sat back down.

"You do remember them don't you?" he said, his voice no longer bouncing of the walls. I didn't answer, so he went on.

Out of nowhere he pulled out a pair of reading glasses and a scroll. He unrolled it and a mile of paper rolled around the room. "You shall come and work for me, doing little annoying side jobs I wish not to do myself. Blah, blah, blah. You will be paid once every two weeks depending on the quality of your work. Blah, blah, blah. _I _care more about quality than quantity. You shall not be harmed due to the fact that you are a sneaky little weasel," at this he smiled, "Yadda, yadda, yadda…" he trailed off. "And by letting yourself nearly get caught tonight you agreed to my proposition." both the spectacles and all the paper disappeared.

I thought about it. The Joker said that if he ever saved me from the cops I would have to work for him, or else he'd kill someone I loved. That just left Ashley. I nearly crapped my pants when the lady tripped the alarm at the bank, but I didn't, thanks to the knowledge that the Joker was just around the corner to save my skin.

"So I work for you now." I said at last.

"Yes, and your job starts now." he grinned maliciously. "Brent my bag, please."

The fourth clown climbed up the steps of the stage and handed the suitcase of money to the Joker. He opened it up and peered inside. "Excellent, this is just enough to bail my little Harlequin out of Arkham." he tossed me the bag.

"I'm bailing someone out of the asylum? That's it?" I asked.

"It's not like I'm going to make you do something impossible on your first day! I'm not _crazy_." the Joker rolled his eyes.

For once in his life he was being drop-dead serious.


	4. Chapter 4: Chasing Harley

Working For A Psycho Chapter 4

Out of all the crazy ideas…out of all the things he could think of…the damn clown makes me go bail out his girlfriend.

"I didn't know you could bail people out of an asylum." I think out loud, as I follow Brent from the fun house and into the parking lot. "Don't they only let people out when they're mentally fit to rejoin society?"

"Damn, you sound like one of those probation officers. Ha-ha!" Brent chuckles behind his mask. "You aren't bailing her out, you're breaking her out. I persuaded one of the higher up guards to let her go in exchange for this." He motions to the money in his hand; the money I had only just stolen.

A girl couldn't have asked for an easier job!

"This'll be cake…" I mutter.

"Even I have to admit it's pretty easy…" Brent comments. "Can you drive?" he adds, after a pause.

"Yeah."

"Well?"

"My sister says I drive too fast. But, fairly well I think."

"That's good enough for this guy. I'm going to trust you with my car. I don't rely on that metal death-trap." Brent motions over to the van that had got me here.

"And what kind of car do you have exactly?"

Brent points his car alarm into the unlit part of the parking lot and clicks the 'unlock' button. I stare into the pitch-black. A car chirps and lights flash in the distance, leaving spots in my eyes from the sudden source of light.

"Check it out." he says as he struts over to it. I narrow my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of it. After a moment my eyes readjust and I notice the vehicle's silhouette.

"No way!" I say as I run over to it. "A convertible Camaro? This year's model too!" I run my hand over the shiny smooth surface. I look up at the sinister clown mask, "Where'd you get the money for this?"

"Eh…places." is all he says. I just stare at him as he examines the windshield.

"And you're going to let me drive it?"

"Yeah. No skin of anyone's bones right?"

"I…I guess not."

"All right then." he tosses me the keys. "Good luck." he turns and heads back into the clown's head. From where I'm standing it looked like it was eating him whole.

The icy wind stung at my face, my cheeks numb. My already messed up curls were getting tangled further as I drive top-down. The back highway is empty as I speed down, the street-lamps passing quickly in indistinct smudges. The landscape on either side of the ribbon of road barren, not even a dead skeleton of a bush stood.

I glance at the speedometer and smile, my sister's car could never go this fast; no matter how hard I'd try! My rapture didn't last long too long, for the gruesome towers and slimy walls of Arkham Asylum rose overhead. It was a giant sprawling building; that included some perks for the prisoners trapped inside. I had heard that Poison Ivy had her very own botanical garden somewhere inside.

The guard waved me in through the gate without a second glance, the gravel shifted and crunched under the tires as I pulled into a stall at the back of the asylum. I let the car run, listening to the engine purr softly, it gave me goose bumps to be behind the wheel of a fast car.

After a moment or two I get out, leaving the keys in the ignition, with the suitcase in my grip. The back door is filthy, the grey paint peeling, yellow and red stains splattered all over it. Only a single un-shaded light bulb hung over it, casting a miserable yellow light a foot and a half out in all directions. The handle squeaked when I tried to turn it and opened with a screech when I gave it a hard shove.

It opened up into a small foul room; a dark doorway at the back. A small desk was near the front, with a grouchy looking security sitting behind it, his legs propped up. He looked at me when I walked in and gave a sort of grunt. From the dark doorway emitted shrill yells.

"Where are you taking me? Get me out of this you freaking ape! Let me out right now you damn—ugh! Do you know who I am? You just wait till' my puddin' hears about this! Oh you're gonna get it!"

Two more gruff looking guards emerge from the darkness, pushing along a very angry Harley. She's tied up in a straight jacket; shackles connected her ankles. With another push she falls over, landing on her face at my feet.

She looks up at me with a frown, "Oh my freaking G! No way! You are not selling me off!" the two guards try to shut her up as the main security watch clears his throat.

"You got the money?" he asks, as he takes his feet off the desk.

I put the suitcase on the table without a word and open it up; I turn it around so he can see. "More then two million here." I say.

He sniffs and picks out a stack, he thumbs through it before nodding towards his colleagues.

"You can't be selling me to this lezbo! Who knows what she'll do!" Harley screeches as the guards undo her shackles and straightjacket. As I watch I realize, that is the dumbest thing I've ever seen. They were seriously letting a crazy person (a pissed off one at that!) loose, without telling her what's going on.

Once she was free, a sly smile crossed Harley's face. She grabbed hold of one of the guard's guns and shot him straight between the eyebrows.

The other guards jumped to action, trying to restrain her; but she was fast and shot the second guard in the chest three times. I saw the guard that had been sitting on the desk reach for his own weapon. In a flash I kicked him square in the face, his nose spurted blood as he fell back from the blow.

Harley, for good measure I guess, shot him through the skull without batting an eyelash. Then, she aimed the gun for my face. I held up my hands defensively.

"I'm with Joker."

Harley screamed for joy, "I knew my puddin' would get me! Now hold on, I got some business to take care of." She said as she picked a card from one of the guards.

I had just enough time to see Harley flying through the dark passage she had just come through before realizing she had gone. I dashed after her, following the sound of her bare feet against the cold filthy floor.

The ground was slippery from gunk built up for who knows how long; it was hard not to trip. The walls and ceilings of the twisting and turning passages were all the same: dirty. All manner of pipes stuck out in random places snaking there way around the place, in some areas I had to duck to keep my head from whacking the low-set ones.

Finally I saw Harley's hair whip around the corner. Every time that flash of the tip of her blonde ponytail urged me to move faster.

Soon we started passing cells, they were simple barred boxes, and we moved too fast to see the occupants. Then the cells became more sophisticated. They were clean and white with thick glass instead of bars; a few holes were drilled into the nearly invisible door of some of them. Inside I noticed each cell was different, the prisoners must have personalized them.

As I round another corner I find Harley stopped in front of one of the cells. When I run up I found that it belonged to a very sexy green woman with red hair; Poison Ivy, miniature vines crawling up her limbs.

"One of us gets out, we both get out!" Harley seemed to be replying as she slid the card through the lock, the door clicked. Poison Ivy was up against the glass, she shoved the door and it swung open, she stepped out into the hallway.

"Come on!" Harley said, "Let's go!" she started to tug on Ivy's arm.

"Thanks Harley," Ivy said coolly as she plucked the blonde's hand from her arm, "But I've got some plants to see to." And with that she disappeared into the darkness, probably towards her green house.

Harley watched her leave in confusion, so I tugged the sleeve of her shirt. "Come on," I say, "We need to get out of here." Unconsciously Harley follows me as I try to find my way back the way we came. I do my best to retrace my steps, but soon Harley comments, "Honey, I think we're lost."

"Shit." I frown and look around. We're in…some hallway… I get even more pissed off, because right then, the alarms go off.


	5. Chapter 5: Bang, Bang

Just a few minutes after the sirens go on the lights turn off. We're plunged into darkness and I can hear the inmates' grunts of protest all around me. But where am I? I try to feel around, and I know I've done a three-sixty turn before my hand pushes into something…squishy and soft.

"Hey pervert! Watch it!" is Harley's immediate reaction.

"Sorry." I mumble, as I assume I've just grazed her boobs. I do another few turns and a creepy red light illuminates the halls. I can see Harley has her arms outstretched too, a dazed look on her face. The light is eerie, but I guess it was better then nothing, and it signified something to me.

"Run!" I said loudly once it came to my mind. Harley blinked before nodding.

"This way!" she said as she dashed to her left, I followed. But the more we ran, the more I felt as if we were going nowhere, everything looked the damn same! I was beginning to believe we were going in circles, I was sure we passed that pipe like five times!

However, as we rounded yet another corner, something was different. There were three guards standing armed and at the ready, I found myself staring into the barrel of a gun. Luckily for us, their rain of bullets didn't leave a scratch and as I cringed, trying to avoid the fire; Harley just kept running straight for them.

I don't know exactly what she did but they were down in a flash and she was tossing me a gun. I stood for a moment surveying it. I'd never held a gun before, it was heavy and the hilt was still slightly warm from the previous owner.

"Hey! There they are!" I whip around to face more guards running around, one of them waving over his comrades as he faces us. I'm numb…I barely feel myself raise my arm, the gun held sideward lazily as if it had been familiar with my hand for years, my finger squeezes the trigger.

Everything moves in slow motion. My hand moves just slightly as I shoot off the rest of the guards. The first guy's head jerks back when the bullet hits somewhere in his forehead and the rest of his body follows. Once he's hit the ground everything suddenly runs in normal times again and the rest of the guards crumple to the floor.

Small wisps of smoke curl up from the gun's barrel. I didn't even blink as the '_Bang!' _from the shots echo through the halls. They pound loudly in my ear, they don't unnerve me; instead it fills me with this feeling of freedom, of power, like I was unstoppable.

I didn't feel like myself. I felt…amazing but numb, like I wasn't in my body, just watching myself doing everything like when I'd kicked of the lock in the alley a few days before. I had gone around the corner, I don't know where Harley was but I did find the card-key she'd got earlier on the floor. I plucked it from the ground and turned it over in my hand. There were cells left and right, the prisoners right up against the glass watching me.

One prisoner in particular caught my eye. Unlike the rest he just sat on his cot staring up at me, just a cute middle-aged guy, he didn't look psycho or even scary. His room was pretty bare too.

"Tell me girly. What's a guy gotta do to get some fresh air?" he asked with a cocky smile.

His voice hit me with a wave of familiarity, it was the Riddler, the only villain I truly idolized; but for amazing brains (and adorably dorky looks), not psychotics. His hair was messy and dark brown and his matching eyes glinted with mischief.

I couldn't help but smile silly as he came up to the glass, "You can just ask nicely." My face was so close to his, I knew I had to have been blushing like an idiot.

He tilted his head so his forehead was leaning on the glass, "Please?" his voice was silky and the next thing I knew I was sliding the card through the slot, a small light turned green and the door clicked open.

"Thanks cutie." He beamed, "I'll be sure to make it up to you later."

He called me 'cutie'! If I were to die right then, I wouldn't have minded one bit I think, my life might have just been completed! I was grinning as I watched him vanish down the corridor. The voices of the other inmates snapped me back to reality; I had to look around a little to remember what it was I was doing.

"Hey _doll_, you gonna let us out too?" came a gruff voice. I thought for a moment, then shrugged. In a few short moments the place was crawling with inmates running, trying to find a way out. Unfortunately they were just as clueless as I had been. It seemed like no one knew the way to freedom, even some of the guards looked lost; but they weren't alive for long. It appeared that the prisoners of the asylum had some issues with them…

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting roar that bounced off the grimy walls. I cringed at the sound, my ears still rang slightly and everyone around me seemed to be thrown into a panic. Soon after there was a rumbling, something was running around nearby, something huge.

I ran. It was my instinct, I just had to find Harley and get out of here ASAP. Luckily I appeared to be going the right way because I ran into a huge rectangular room swarming with more prisoners; I was sure I hadn't let out that many. Nevertheless the place was a madhouse, everyone was running for any exit, guards and escapees alike. And I finally saw why.

There was a monster near one of the entryways. It was humongous, consisting of leaves and vines and its head was a giant tulip-looking flower, the petals were lined with huge yellowed fangs. Its tongue slid out, a long pale green stem, dripping with a sticky yellow substance. The tongue lashed at the hysterical guards, pulling them, screaming, into its giant maw. You could clearly hear the snapping of bones as it chewed.

Poison Ivy's laughter could be heard nearby, I glanced around; she might know where Harley was. I ran up quickly and upon seeing me she just nodded in understanding.

"Get on." She said, motioning towards her mutated beast.

I paused less then a second before rushing to grab hold of a vine. Now wasn't the time to think. Ivy dived into the vines, fading into the greenery. The creature gave a long, loud growl before rushing down the way I'd come. Everyone attempted to run from our path, some made it to the safety of the cells, but a few were only able to get crushed beneath the massive roots and vines.

It crashed through the narrow hallways, upsetting the stones in the walls and bursting open the pipes. Water and sewage dripped out of some, while other spewed out rushes of steam.

We found Harley in a fairly empty hallway, getting pistol-whipped by a few guards. Without hesitation I shot them down. I had to admit I thought I was pretty good with this gun. When Harley saw us she put up her arms as if for a hug; her cheek was swollen and bleeding. The plant grabbed hold of her with a vine before continuing on.

Finally I saw the door-way we'd first ran through about an hour before, but it was so small! There was no way we could—

The colossal plant crashed through the brick before I could even finish my thought. I felt the cold sting of the night air rush onto my face, the flower tossed us onto the side-walk none-to-gently before climbing its way over the gate of the asylum, Ivy gone with it.

"Hey! Brent's car!" Harley smiled as she jumped into the passenger seat. "Come on sweetie, let's get going before this place goes on lock-down!" I made a step towards the car.

"Freeze!" a guard rounded the corner of the building, momentarily stunned by the gapping hole in the building. I took that moment to shoot him, straight in the heart. Again things went in slow motion. I watched as the bullet drilled though his chest, blood spurting out the other side, his grunt as it entered his body. His blue uniform stained red, his body falling to the ground. Yet the pool of blood moved quickly, snaking its way to my feet.

Before it could touch me I got into the car and started it up. As the gravel crunched under the wheels once again and the engine purred and the leather cooled my hot skin, I thought over my actions this night.

I'd left my old life behind when I'd pulled that trigger. Nothing would ever be the same…I'd killed people tonight, yet my hands didn't shake. I turned up the radio, trying to drown out the thoughts. It didn't help that "_Bang, Bang" _by Nancy Sinatra was playing.

"I love this song!" Harley giggled.

I ignored the comment, the thoughts just kept rushing onto me, those guards had families; I'd killed someone's husband, father, brother, son. How would I feel if someone killed Ashley? What would I do? The possible repercussions of my actions were infinite.

"_Bang, Bang that awful sound…" _Nancy's voice lamented sadly.

With that I realized; it didn't matter what I'd done. I'd do it all again, it was for Ashley, it was all for Ashley. And it was already done. Kill or be killed right?

With this new thought I smiled, I once again enjoyed reveling in speeding down the dark, empty highway.

"Bang, bang, baby." I said to myself with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6: The Morning After

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character of Batman; wether it be Joker, Harley or the like. The other characters are of my own making and do not appear in any of the actual Batman shows or movies.**

I sat at the edge of my bed with the gun in my hand. Brent had taught me how to open it up, only to find that there were no bullets left anyway. I just thought I was lucky I had enough last night; I never realized my ammo was limited; I had never even given it a thought when I was using it. But that sinister clown had said I might as well keep it, what with Harley raving about how well I'd used it.

"I'll get you the right bullets for it." Brent had said as he examined the shaft. I thanked him, knowing I wouldn't have the slightest clue as to what to get.

I got up from the soft, pale blue sheet slowly; walked over to my mahogany desk in the corner and placed the gun on its scuffed surface. I glanced outside; the sun was already shining brightly through my sliding door. Before walking out onto the balcony I grabbed Brent's jacket that was slung over the back of my rolling chair.

I leaned over the railing; burying my face in the soft, cool leather. It smelled so good. I wish I could see Brent without his mask on, I wonder what he looked like? I didn't even know his eye-color. All I ever saw was his insane red hair, which twisted and turned in every direction, what if that wasn't even real?

Last night replayed in my mind. We had stopped at McDonalds after the whole Arkham incident; the ordeal had me craving a fish fillet. Once Harley and I had pulled up to the funhouse we found the four deranged clowns drinking and laughing like maniacs in front.

"Hey! Look who made it back." Brent raised a bottle in greeting; I raised my half eaten burger in response. We made it through the building quickly, and in the backroom Harley pounced on Joker the instant she saw him.

"Puddin'!" she'd yelled. The clown spun her around in his arms. Was that a genuine smile on his face? I wondered if he'd smiled like that to my…I looked away in disgust. The Joker was a bastard, playing poor Harley like he did with everyone.

Brent sat down on a chair and propped his feet up on the table. I took a seat next to him and he offered me the bottle he'd been drinking from. I normally only drank at parties, and nothing that hard, but the whiskey looked so tempting and my head was splitting with bad memories. I snatched the bottle with mumbled thanks before taking huge gulps of it.

The taste was sharp but it felt good passing over my tongue. It didn't take much for it to make my mind go fuzzy. I could hear Harley's excitement as she told Joker a recap of what happened at the asylum. I didn't trouble myself to look up or…do anything really. The adrenaline I'd felt at the asylum had drained out of my system with one look from that red-lipped smile.

"REALLY?" was all I could hear the Joker say in response, accompanied by a gut-wrenching laugh. Everything else went by fleetingly. I could vaguely hear the clowns talking, something about me fitting right into the family and Harley hugging me. I just kept bringing the bottle to my lips, until I tipped it all the way back and found it was empty.

I'd felt like crap. Brent came to my distress, helping me to his car. The stinging air woke me up some as Brent took me home; he even walked me to the front door; although I kept telling him I was fine.

"Good job today." He said as I stood in the doorway, I looked up at the mask, longing for him to pull it off but he just turned and left, leaving me to stumble up to a nice hot shower.

Now, looking out at my second-story view I saw the city nearby, the buildings and skyscrapers were but black silhouettes against the rising sun. It looked so still, so serene and untroubled. As if it was never crawling with psychos or stupid cops.

In the other direction was more of the uptown housing, the hill that I lived at the base of. At the top was Bruce Wayne's manor and below that was my classmate Travis' house. He was easily desirable number one at my school. His house was such an eyesore; but I only ever said this out of jealousy because honestly, it was gorgeous. I'd never had the honor of going there but hell, it was still stunning from afar, just like the owner.

Travis was just one of those guys whom; you had to be a major socialite to even be acknowledged as a human. We may live in the same neighborhood, and have a lot of the same classes, but he was in a league I wasn't about to cross into. He was that kid that parents looked at and said, "I wish my kid was more like him." The kind that went to parties at mansions and drank wine and snorted coke, not to some shambling suburban home where everyone was chugging beer and getting high on grass atop old couches.

I didn't know Travis, and I don't remember having any particularly long conversations with him but I didn't like him. I thought he was just one of those snobby rich kids. He had always showed off his brains in History last school year. Flaunting his superiority in a way that only I seemed to realize was not humble in the slightest, while everyone else thought he was a god.

The sound of water broke my train of thought, rushing through the pipes hidden in the walls, the shower in my sister's room must have turned on; which was very strange. Ashley never took showers in the morning, ever. I took another whiff of the jacket, and then headed back into my room. Maybe Ashley was just too tired last night to take a shower then, it seemed unlikely but…I just wanted to stay in my room. My nice plain room, the only thing that seemed to have remained unchanged. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face into the jacket once again.

But then as I lay there, my sister's high-pitched giggles drifted into the room, mixed with some guy's voice. No way! Had my sister brought home, _work_? She had only done it once before but that was already one too many! I didn't want any disgusting pervert lurking around our house into bed with my sister! It was times like this that had me thinking about what she did, and it sickened me.

If this was one of her 'customers' I wasn't having it. I was so going to raise hell about this. I got up from bed quickly and stormed out my door, straight into my sister's room down the left hall; it was right across the stairs, which led to the front door, maybe I could push the guy down to the exit?

Without knocking I fumed into my sister's bedroom, she was making her bed; wearing just a tank top and underwear, her hair unusually messy (I rarely see her with bed-head!).

"Sissy what are you doing in here? What's wrong?" Ashley looked worried.

"Who the hell is that in the bathroom?" I didn't bother keeping my voice down, "I swear if it's some guy that picked you up I'm going to rip his—"

"What's going on?" I didn't hear the shower go off, but I guess it did. A guy was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, with clean clothes already on, excluding a shirt. He had a nice body…very nice. If he weren't some depraver I wouldn't have minded him being in my sister's room.

He was toweling his head, then pulled it off and slung it over his shoulder. I knew that messy mane of black hair anywhere; those bright blue eyes were hard to forget if you saw them every other day, they were just missing glasses.

It was Mr. Benson, my English teacher.

E/N: Thank you for all the wonderful comments! They're greatly appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7: New Boyfriend

I didn't return Ashley's sweet smile as she set a cup of hot, dark tea before me on the dining table, along with a plate piled with food. I kept my face blank, even when I burnt my tongue with my first scalding sip of the drink. Instead I stared at my English teacher, sitting across from me, watching his every move. He smiled at my sister when she gave him his coffee and even kissed her on the cheek in thanks. I was so pissed I couldn't even think of my food.

When Ashley went to pour her own self a cup Mr. Benson turned his dazzling smile on me. He was the most liked teacher at the high school, which was saying something. But it was just because he was young and good-looking. I admit that I liked his class too, it had been my favorite last year; he was outgoing and made the period pretty enjoyable. Or it had been like that; I seriously needed to rethink some things. It was hard to remember all the good times I'd had in the class with my teacher turning out to be a pervert.

"You know Alexis, I knew your sister looked familiar, now I see; she reminds me of you. The resemblance is uncanny." He said.

Yeah sure, besides the fact that she was perfect and I was too tall and lanky right? Bastard, I thought to myself. How was it that someone as good looking as him was out looking for some loose woman? Maybe that was just his style.

"Oh yes, we both get our looks from our mom." Ashley smiled as she took a seat. Seriously? She was bringing up mom now like it was normal? I really didn't like her attitude at the moment, she was too cheery; she was acting just plain fake. I simply scowled and decided to stare at the refrigerator magnets; right now they were far more interesting.

"So, Alexis, how has your summer been?" Mr. Benson tried to stretch for a conversation. I merely ignored him. I knew that my behavior was unacceptable, but so was this guys presence in our home.

"Alexis! Don't be rude, answer Kevin." My sister scolded. She barely ever called me by my whole name. Hell, she was doing a lot of unexpected, abnormal things today.

"It's been fine, _Kevin._" I said with repulse. There was an awkward pause, "Tell me, how _exactly _did you and my sister meet?"

"Oh! Well I imagine it to be something like that movie '_Pretty Woman'_." Kevin smiled, nauseatingly my sister giggled and smiled back.

Did he really just refer to himself as a rich guy picking up my whoring sister? Or was I thinking too hard? Everything Kevin Benson said I was taking as an insult; I REALLY didn't want him in the house any longer.

What was my sister thinking? There were so many secrets in here that could be so easily found out, I was wishing I had something similar to the 'Bat Cave', someplace to hide all our skeletons. When I finally replied to my teacher I made sure the hatred could be easily detected, I had no intention on keeping up some nice façade.

"So, you were just looking for a good time and decided to pick my sister up huh? It's interesting she brought you here though. What? Did you pay extra or something?" The look on my sister's face suggested she wanted to strangle me, which was a first too.

Kevin just put up his hands in defense, "Whoa look, I just thought your sister might want a ride home."

"So you're telling me you guys didn't have sex last night?" I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair.

"I never said we didn't. I—" he was nervous now.

"And that you didn't pay her to?"

"Well, I—" he fumbled over words.

"Enough!" Ashley shouted. I looked up at her lazily, "Alexis, this disrespect will not do!"

"Disrespect? You disrespect our names by bringing up mom! You disrespect me by bringing _him_ into the house! You disrespect yourself nearly every night!" I yelled.

"Does it look like that's what I want?" the hurt is obvious in her voice and I regret the last thing I'd said, though it was to late. "I do it for US Alex!"

"You could have done anything else!"

"DO YOU THINK ANYTHING ELSE WOULD SUPPORT US THAT WELL? I've got no schooling Alexis! You know nothing would have paid as well!"

"ISN'T WHAT I DO ENOUGH? I CAN EASILY SUPPORT US!"

"YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T! NOT ANYMORE!" she screamed, we were standing, the table between us, and our faces red with rage.

I knew this fight would come up one day, it'd been hard pretending as if everything was normal. But nothing was normal about us. I robbed banks and my sister was a prostitute. I stared into her eyes…my eyes; sisters shouldn't fight like this; especially with the low blows I've pulled. I calmed my self and sat back down.

"That doesn't mean you bring home scum like this sis." I said with a sneer towards _Kevin._

"Kevin is kind, and sweet. He's not like the others." Ashley's voice softened, although she still didn't sit down.

"Yeah, because he's not disgustingly ugly or old. Look past the appearance sis," I sigh as I get up, "You met him exactly where you meet all the other revolting filth. He's exactly the same as those guys, just with pretty wrapping." I begin to walk out, "I want him out by noon Ashley." And I'm gone up the stairs, without even touching my breakfast.

The next time I head down the stairs, I find Kevin halfway out the door, kissing my sister good-bye. He sees me, waves and says, "Later Alexis!" with a cheery smile, as if nothing uncomfortable had happened at all. I just stand three steps up, fuming.

Once the door had closed and we heard the car drive away, Ashley whipped around in fury. I'd never her this mad since mom had left us.

"Alex, I'm—I'm not mad at you." She began slowly.

"Sis, just spill it."

That lit a fuse, "How dare you! How dare you behave that way! I know you're more mature than that!"

"Well sorry sis, but I didn't know I had to respect every sleaze-bag that walked through the door." I walk to the bottom of the stairs.

"The next time he comes around, I expect you to be on your best behavior!"

"The next time?" I was dumfounded, "Sis, he sees you as a prostitute, that's why he picked you up! And what? You're fine with that?"

"Look Alexis," Ashley leaned up against the front door and rubbed her forehead, "I haven't had a boyfriend in so long, why can't you just let me have this one? You know him, he can't be that bad."

"For one sis, one's personality in there professional life has nothing to do with what they're like in their personal life. And second, I won't let you have this one because of where you met him. By him picking you up at 'work' shows his intents, who he is as a person, and to be brutally honest; my first impression of him outside of school today, wasn't the best."

The look on my sister's face was crushing. I felt my heart ache. I couldn't stand her being like this, "Ashley, I'll be civil next time." Her face brightened up at this, she looked at me, her eyes slightly twinkling.

"But, if he does something stupid, something that hurts you," I round the corner to face the kitchen intending to look for food, "I'll kill him."


	8. Chapter 8: An Awkward Ride

The next few days after the outburst between me and Ashley, our relationship returned to its normal rhythm. However, Kevin came around nearly everyday to hang out with my sister. It was hard being civil with him, as I had promised to Ashley, because whenever I saw them together all I could imagine was Kevin treating Ashley like shit once I was gone, like most of the other guys did. I never apologized for anything I'd already said about him, I didn't owe him that, and he wasn't my teacher anymore so I knew I wouldn't have to deal with his face in class next year.

Most of the day it was just the three of us in the living room watching movies, I couldn't stand being a third wheel, but like hell I was leaving. This was my place _not_ his. However when night rolled over and the moon chased away the sun I couldn't help but feel ecstatic. The black convertible that pulled up to our driveway was an excuse for me to finally leave.

It led me into this other world. A dark, grubby realm that glowed with neon colors; it was on people's clothes and buildings and splattered on any object, even in some eyes. And in this world I wasn't just some teenager; I was a god, untouchable.

My other life was hidden behind a scarily sweet clown mask that Brent had picked especially for me. The two of us, along with the other three clowns that had taken me to the funhouse, led what seemed like an army of pranksters. The five of us were like a kind of commander, giving orders to the grunts. Mainly we just hung around the worst places in Gotham, robbing and vandalizing. Every night it was like this.

Luckily when Brent came to pick me up it was too dark for my sister to ever see the clown mask; Ashley would never stand it. She'd asked questions about the cars arrival sure but I gave vague answers about parties and things.

"I know it's summer sissy but partying every night just isn't healthy." Ashley was being an older sister at the moment, peering at the car through the glass by the door, as I pulled on my army boots and Brent's leather jacket. I hadn't given it back yet and he never really complained.

I looked at my sister, who was squinting out at the darkness, trying to get a better look at the awaiting vehicle. I simply smiled as I opened the front door and grabbed my keys hanging from a hook, "The pepper spray is under the couch cushion." I say jokingly as I leave, because I know that's where she'll be with _Kevin_.

They were a true couple now, going on dates and crap. No money transaction…that I knew of. But Ashley looked genuinely happy, who was I to take that away?

"Good Mornin' Ace." Brent says as I slide into the passenger seat.

"Mornin'." I smile and pull on my clown mask that had been hiding under the seat. Then we pull out of the driveway and onto the open road.

We head off to the abandoned (well not so much) funhouse to see what the Joker wanted from us that night. It was usually the same old, same old; but sometimes Brent said that before, the Joker sent them to certain turfs to get rid of different gangs. It hadn't happened yet with me, but what with all the people that broke out of Arkham, Brent said there'd be a lot of new punks trying to take over the Joker's areas. I never noticed how insane the territorial issues between the villains were. The news sure did sugarcoat a lot.

It didn't take long for us to make it to the other side of town, the roads were practically empty and the car was fast (oh so fast). Once inside my first question was, "So what're we doing today clown?"

Joker was in his normal flamboyant mood; perched in his throne, sitting in the middle of a bright spotlight, the stage strewn with confetti and streamers of every shape and color.

"My dear Harley here wants something to do." His grin was creepier than usual.

"Like what?" I narrowed my eyes in question.

"Like you're driving me to a few places." Harley mimicked my voice as she appeared from behind one of the curtains. She tossed a huge black duffle bag to Brent before sauntering out the door, the sinister clown and I followed suit.

In the car Harley leaned over the front bench from the back, hanging lazily and talking non-stop.

"So how're you guys gettin' along?" she asked.

"Pretty well." Brent said, because we really did. I enjoyed Brent's company, and it seemed like he liked mine too.

"Oh yeah?" Harley looked at Brent curiously before leaning far over and pulling off his mask…the first thing I saw was his stunning smile, pearly and straight.

"Aw Brent, sweetie! How cute you're blushing!" I couldn't see the pink of his cheeks, and I don't know how Harley could see it either, because Brent's face was painted with the same white paint as hers.

"Would you sit back Harley? I'm trying to drive here." You could tell he wasn't serious because he was still smiling. I'd had a crush on _The Crow_ for the longest time, but this guy blew Brandon Lee away. His white irises and purple lips and sharp features…damn. I shivered under the warm leather.

Brent seemed to notice and glanced at me, "You okay there Ace?" he smiled.

"Never better." I grinned back; Harley leaned over the bench again. I pulled up my mask so it sat in my mangle of hair, and then took up the bottle that had been between Brent's legs and took a swig, staring out at the city.

"So you two dating yet? Or is Brent playing hard to get?"

The liquor I had just taken in spewed out of my lips in a mist. Crushing on someone was one thing, dating was another. I hadn't had a boyfriend in…ever. I was that girl that was just like one of the guys, definitely NOT girlfriend material. I thought of all this in a rush before looking over at my companions.

"I do not play hard to get." Brent said coolly, refusing to look in my direction. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, staring wide-eyed.

"Oh, so you two _are _going out. To be honest honey, I always thought you deserved a little somethin' better then Brent here." Harley motioned towards Brent with a lazy hand while looking at me.

"Uh, Harley, we aren't going out." I say; why does it sting as I say it?

"Huh, so Brent just isn't your type?" Harley inquires.

"He's totally my type!" I say it a little too quickly, and I bite my bottom lip straight after. "I mean—uh-." I think fast, trying to think of what to say to undo what I've already blurted out. But I couldn't take back what was already said.

There was a long awkward silence, and I could feel my face burning. Harley was just staring at me and a smile tugged at Brent's mouth. I slowly pull on my mask, to hide from the world, and shift uncomfortably to stare at the road ahead, sitting a bit too stiff in the seat. Brent picks up his own mask from the seat beside him and pulls it on with one hand, his left still on the steering wheel.

"Well, things just got weird." Harley says as she lay back in her seat.

"Thanks Harley," Brent's voice is muffled and sarcastic, " Thank you so _very _much."


	9. Chapter 9: Just A Job

"Meet me back here in a couple hours sweetie." Harley said as she picked up her duffle bag and hopped out of the car.

We'd parked under a tall tree that lined the sidewalk of some well-maintained street, neat apartment buildings on either side, the streetlights glowing dimly, the sky cloudy; like blotches of grey paint smeared on clear, dark, navy blue canvas. So deep here in the city, the stars never appeared, they screened themselves from the bright lights behind a cobalt haze.

Harley blew a kiss in our direction before sauntering off into the apartment buildings, the red brick crawled with ivy and curtains shaded the windows; for such a nice place, a surprisingly malicious aura emanated.

"Well that was easy." Brent said as he slowly eased out of his parallel parking and back onto the road. "I swear," he continued as we zipped through a yellow light, "Ever since you came around, the clown's jobs have been a piece of cake."

"Oh yeah?" was all I replied, he made a good point. Compared to the stories Brent had to tell, the Joker had me doing kiddy stuff. And I took that as a major insult to my ever-lowly ego. "How long have you been doing things for the clown?" I ask.

"A year or two." Is all he says; still keeping his masked face turned towards the road ahead.

"What else have you done for him?" I decide that this question is worth the honest face and pull off the mask I had so shamelessly hid under only moments ago.

"A lot I'm not proud of."

"You want to elaborate on that?"

He paused for what seemed like forever, the only thing between us was the rush of the wind that whipped up my insane hair and some young boy screaming his head off to his bands metal on the radio.

"You like horror stories Ace?" he dares a glance at me, but I can't see his eyes through the black mesh of his mask.

"Love em'." I grin a bit.

"Yeah? What's your favorite?"

I think for a minute before replying, "The original _Halloween_. Michael Myers is still the greatest in my book. But don't change the subject."

"Haha, damn! The clowns usually fall for that. Nice choice in movie though." Brent is pulling into the parking lot to a diner, considerably empty. When he finds a stall he rolls in and continues, "I'll tell you over some dinner. You hungry?"

"Starved." Although I had eaten a whole steak dinner before he'd picked me up, but I didn't really see the relevance of bringing that up.

"Eats on me then." He gets out and tosses his mask back into the car, the awkward moment passed as our _visors_ were pulled off. My hands shoved in the pockets of the soft leather, I hop up onto the curb after Brent.

Quickly my companion jogs up to the door to pull it open for me, "Madame." He mimics a French accent as he bows me in, yet still keeping his eyes on me. I laugh as I walk. But there's something in his eyes, this odd twinkle that catches me off.

Once inside this middle-aged redheaded woman quickly seats us. Pink waitress outfit, golden orb earrings, curly red wig and everything, classic stereotype.

Brent doesn't even glance at the menu, but I pick mine up and scroll over the food. The waitress comes back moments later with glasses of water before pulling out a pad from her apron and a pencil from behind her ear.

"What can I get you honey?" she says it to the air between us, while chewing on the bubble gum in her mouth.

Brent hands her the menu, "I'll take a double burger with everything on it and a cherry soda with chocolate ice-cream. Please." He smiles at the waitress, who just eyes him wearily. I look over my menu at him, and then realize that he's still wearing the make-up; I bet if he wasn't, then the waitress would have smiled (or swooned). At least a bit…I know I sure might have.

The skin under the white concealer looked nice and smooth, and tan patches bordered the edges, so I knew what his real skin color was. Hell even with the make-up he was real nice to look at. _The Crow _didn't have a thing on Brent.

"And what about you honey?" the waitress turns to me. I look from Brent to her and smile sweetly.

"I'll have the same." I hand her the menu and she scribbles on the pad before heading behind the counter and into the back kitchen, without another word. I watch her leave then look back at Brent, who's staring at me lazily, his faint purple smile causing me to blush a bit.

"_Grease_ much?" I say with a smile, because the stuff he orders reminds me of what Danny and Sandy get on their date.

He leans back and chuckles, "I love that movie, and you seem to like it too."

"Eh, I don't really like musicals…" I pause and take a sip of water, "But I do love Grease." I take a side-glance at him and he's grinning.

"Not a lot of people seem to like that movie."

"Oh yeah? I don't really know anyone that doesn't like it." I think about it and I really don't.

"Huh, you hang out with people with good taste then."

I laugh, "I guess you could put it like that, but really they just like the drama of it all." There's a pause and I continue, "So what? The people you hang out with don't have '_good taste'_."

"Not if it bit them in the ass." We both laugh at this. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, "But really, they're exceedingly immature. Always drinking and doing drugs." He shakes his head with closed eyes, as if genuinely depressed by this, "What's wrong with the world today?"

I raise an eyebrow, 'really?' it says. He can't keep his straight face and chuckles again, "Because most teenagers _don't _do _that _stuff right?"

"Ace, you can see right through me."

His faking wasn't really hard to decipher to me, but perhaps to others it looked…real. Either I got him, or I was just so sarcastic that I picked up on it fast. We just sit there silently for a while, each of us thinking our own thoughts.

"Hey Ace," he breaks the quiet, "Why do _you _work for the clown? I mean—he's like—"

"Well you heard him that one time, I don't work for him, and he kills the one I love."

"Is your boyfriend really worth it?"

I stare at him before bursting into laughter, "I don't have a boyfriend." I try to still myself before going on, "The only person that the Joker could kill is my older sister, and really she's the only thing that matters to me."

"Oh." He leans back again.

"Why do _you _work for the clown?" I ask, taking another sip of water.

"The pay." He puts his hands behind his head idly.

"That's it?"

"Pretty much. Vandalize a few things, break into a few places and I get paid heaps for doing it. But also to get out of the house, you know get some fresh air, have some extracurricular stuff to put on my résumé or something." He grins at the jest, and so do I, with a small chuckle.

Once all is said and done, the waitress comes back with our food and drinks. She's even carrying a huge plate of fries, "I figure you two might like some." She gives half a smile when she sees my eyes light up at the sight.

"Thanks." Brent and me say it at the same time and amazingly, once the chocolate ice cream and fries are on the table; even our actions are the same. We both pick up a fry (still scalding hot) and dip it into the frosty mess. We glance at each other and smile again.

"You know you're kind of weird." Brent comments as he pops the fry in his mouth.

"Oh yeah?" I do the same with a knowing smirk; I love how the hot potato burns my mouth, and then how it's instantly cooled with the chocolaty goodness, and add in that saltiness! Mm-mm, delicious!

"Fries in your frosty? _Nasty_." He wrinkles his nose as he dips yet another fry.

"Hm." I pick up the burger on my plate and take my usual savage bite, taking out a third of the massive sandwich. Brent's fry kind of just hangs from his mouth as he watches.

"Yup," he dusts his hands free of the salt, "You Ace, are definitely not the average girl."

Half my burger is gone with two bites before he even picks up his own, when I swallow a third I'm bringing it up again, "So, what kind of horror stories you got?"

There's a very long silence as we just sit and eat, I watch him carefully; he chews slowly, staring into his burger and plate, at the soda and ice cream, anywhere but me, as he thinks.

"Do you _really _want to know?" He's dead grim with his question.

"Absolutely." My answer comes quick and definite, I've even stopped eating for a bit; anything to hear what this clowns got to tell.

It takes Brent a while to finish chewing before he begins. The chill of anticipation sets in, causing the hair at the back of my neck to prick up and goose bumps to form on my skin; but none of it is because of the old AC humming gently above the counter.

It's the look in Brent's eyes as he stares me straight, with those inhuman irises; it's my heart as it skips every other beat; it's from Brent's story, hanging from the edge of his purple lips carefully, preparing to take the tumble.

"I started working for the Joker because I didn't know myself. I was a stranger in my own skin. And the first job he had me do was to sneak into the mall just to steal a few things. It was midnight and I didn't see anyone, so I figured I could just bust down the glass in front and waltz in. But see, there was this security guard right inside and, I don't know, I didn't know what to do. I was just some dumb rebellious teenager. Then he pulled a gun, and I got scared; so I pulled out my own; it was just a small handgun I'd taken from my dad's office. And before I'd realized it, I'd shot the guy. I was in a daze, I felt so alive, and the adrenaline was amazing when I saw the blood seeping out. I felt like myself, like I was meant to be in that position, you know what I mean?"

He paused to look for my answer, and I nodded, slowly and surely, because I knew exactly what he meant. He knew I'd felt it, ever since he heard what I'd done from Harley. And his story, this back story, it was so well rehearsed; full of the right word placements and pauses, like he'd practiced it to himself a million times for such a moment as this.

"When the Joker heard what happened," he continued, "The jobs got a little more…cruel. The Joker had us killing for no apparent reason but to show that he could. Yeah he ran into Batman, and yeah he got caught, but we would just split and wait, because we knew he'd be out soon. He walks out of that asylum like he was just _visiting_. And every time he got out, he'd be pissed. Always mad at everything, having to shoot something, murder someone…every time, except when _you_ helped him. That time, he came back…_happy_…

One night though, last year, he was real angry; he had us torture these investigators to get information on Batman. One was some old guy, we killed him in the process; and the other was a young girl; rookie. She was pretty too, ah but her screams…

The Joker wanted me to slice that pretty face. And I did, little by little, but she didn't end up talking. All she did was scream. We had her tied down as I peeled back the skin of her cheek with the edge of a cold blade. But when I saw _her _blood, I didn't fell the adrenaline. I felt sick, wrong, psychotic.

And later on, just for some 'fun', the Joker had us go to this kids birthday party; it was for some judges kid, he'd sent the Joker to the asylum a few times. It was a massacre; the kids took a while to even notice that we weren't exactly party clowns.

We gassed them first, so they got those huge creepy smiles, but they were still alive. All of them crying, but grinning and… Then Harley's hyenas tore them apart, Harley was pissed about it; she _loves_ kids. And then we just picked their heads from the gore, slicing off whatever was connected and made a kind of garland from it. I had to shove this wire through their ears to keep them together. The Joker had us hang them up in the courtroom, as an example not to fuck with him.

I didn't feel to great doing that either, and maybe, fleetingly, I felt guilty about all the crap I'd done, but honestly I didn't care. I still don't.

It's just a job."


	10. Chapter 10: Nightmares

I woke up, shivering, in the dark of the night. There was a cold sweat on my brow and I was breathing quick and heavy. Pillows and my blanket were tossed off the bed, onto the floor, and pale moonlight seeped into the room from the glass door of the balcony, casting strange shapes and shadows all along the room.

Pushing away the wet hair sticking to my face I fell back onto the bed, the images still swarming around in my mind. I never normally had nightmares; in actuality I rarely had any dreams at all. And if I did, I never did remember them. But this dream, (or should I say nightmare?), was different.

It swam with the Joker's pasty face alongside my mother's own pretty one. Yes, there was once a time that Ashley and I had had a mother, and she had been very pretty, I think. She had been very much like Ashley, small, petite, girly and charming. But she had been very selfish, she didn't know when to grow up, I blame this trait of hers for her death…

In the dream my mother had been dancing with that deranged clown, giggling and smiling and enjoying herself. As I watched I tried to call out to her to get away from him, but no sound could be uttered from my mouth. And I had to watch, as the Joker dipped my mother, and, instead of bringing her back up, he let my mother go, and she fell away into a black abyss that seemed to fill the dark air alongside the Joker's laugh.

I tried to follow her, but I couldn't find the way. Then there was the Joker next to me, twirling me as he tried to pick me up into a waltz. No matter how hard I tried to pull away I couldn't, he dipped me, and I too waited to enter that black abyss, for him to let go and let me die. He never did… I was stuck in the darkness with the man I hated the most in the world. His laughter echoed in my ears, sending a cold shiver up my spine.

How could my mom stare into these soulless pits of eyes and love the maniacal twinkle there? How could she have caressed this chalky white face with her delicate hands? Had she kissed these wide bloody lips with her own? I felt like I was going to heave.

Then a loud banging sound threw me from my thoughts. Shooting out of bed I grabbed onto the metal pipe I kept under my bed; a handy thing in a dangerous situation I would think. The metal was cold and heavy within my palm as I crept my way out of the room and into the dark hallway, the white walls flashed with different colors, indicating the living room television was on. My eyes flicked around, scanning everything, looking for something. Silently I glided downstairs, I was as quiet as a cat, and I found the front door askew and my sister turning the DVD player below the TV set, off.

I went and shut the door quietly, still on high alert, before heading over to my sister.

"Ash, what was that noise?" I ask, looking around cautiously.

There was a long pause before, "Nothing, just go back to bed."

I don't know why I got mad at this remark, but I did. I went over to my sister and turned her around, something told me to, and I found that her eyes were red and puffy, her face stained with tears.

"Ashley! What happened? Tell me." My voice was demanding.

She shook her head in defiance; she sniffled freely now, the tears still slightly flowing. Then realization hit me, how could it be anything else?

"It was Benson wasn't it? What did he do? Did he hurt you?" I felt my face twist with disgust and fury as I scrutinized my sisters being, "I'll kill that bastard!"

"Alex no!" Ashley's arms wrapped around me, "Please, just let me handle it. I'm the older sister, just let me__handle it." She sobbed into my tank top; all I could do was attempt to comfort her, like our mom use to do. She'd pat our backs and make nice relaxing sounds, like the cooing of a dove. And we'd fall asleep, just like that, wrapped in warmth…

There was once a time in my life when cigarettes had cured all of my emotional distress. My mother had once smoked, and I had found something beautifully soothing about the curling, bitter smoke that coiled up from the ashy tip of the white stick, glowing faintly red.

My first cigarette was at a party, it was just to try it, and I never did it again after. But when my mother died, I took it up, finding again the solace in that acrid smolder that that death stick had given off. When I was sad it bit away the tears, when I was mad it had soothed my body, and when I was frustrated it numbed my head, so I couldn't feel a thing.

I'd like to think I was never an addict; I only had a break whenever the feelings were overwhelming. Then again, when your life crumbles away from under you feet, a pause to light up a cigarette happened more often then you'd like.

Quitting wasn't that hard, I suppose. I just stopped buying it, and I took up eating instead. I may be a string bean or a noodle or whatever, but I really had gained weight after I quit; 'good weight' my sister told me.

And the only reason I'm remembering this is because of the cool night air. There were the stars again; a few winking down from lack of smog as they sat nestled in their dark cerulean shadows. The wind nipped at my skin and it reminded me of those nights when I would just sit in the back yard, cold but not caring as I puffed away, adding to the smoky grey clouds floating above me.

That was one thing about the world that would always keep me from sinking into depression like most other weak-minded humans: its unceasing cycle. I could die tomorrow and the sun would still rise and set, Gotham could crumble and still the stars would shine beautiful and bright in that vast blue sky (probably brighter and more brilliantly then before). The wind would still blow and waves would still lap up against the shore.

We could all disappear and the Earth would just keep spinning on. When people say that the world is ending, it's not, its just mankind that's ending. The world doesn't end because you die, it'll get over it. Really did it even care you were alive? Did it even know you were there? My guess is that the Earth is just fending for itself, and we humans are an inconvenience. When a natural disaster occurs, it's the Earth compensating for something, trying to fix itself, does it care that it killed those thousands of people? Doubtful.

I sigh, I was just in a bad mood because of the incident with my sister much earlier in the morning, and I was taking it out on mankind as if someone were actually listening. Ever since I quit smoking I turned to putting-down mankind and its need-for-complexity disorder.

Maybe I shouldn't go out tonight, I really didn't want Brent seeing me so grouchy. I had to suck it up…and fast, because I saw the headlights of the Camaro flash as it turned the corner onto my street. I took a deep breath before standing up and curling my lips into some kind of smile-like-thing.

When the car was up in the driveway, I quickly got in. Maybe I just needed to get away from the house to feel better. And I was right; as we pulled away Brent's usual friendly welcome warmed me up and I eased up in the seat.

I ask, "So, what are we doing today?"

"The clown doesn't really have anything for us to do today really. I was thinking we head down to this one party."

"A party?"

"Yeah." I have a feeling he's smiling under that mask, "You like parties don't you?"

I hadn't been to any parties all summer. I pause for a moment before laughing, "Love em'."


	11. Chapter 11: Letting It Out

Whenever I went to a party I saw the same old things.

There was that girl making out with that guy in the corner, although they'd never talked before. At least three couples would be leading one another either into the bathroom or up the stairs. A ton of kids would congest the hallway, just talking about unimportant things and drinking amber liquid from those clear plastic cups. And there would be a bunch of guys (and maybe one or two girls) lounging on the couches with a bong or a few buds, a thick, intoxicating cloud of smoke encircling their joyously high faces. Outside you could tell there was a party within because of all the lights, and maybe five or six kids hanging around the lawn and front door. There would certainly be a lot of cars.

The party Brent pulled up to was completely unexpected to me. I wouldn't have guessed a thing. First: it wasn't at someone's old two-story home while the hosting teens parents were gone. This house was a triple-decker. Instead of going to the right of my driveway, to go out into the rest of suburbia, Brent had pulled to the left, going up the road that led straight onto the bigger more luxurious homes, and we parked out front of probably one of the most expensive looking mansions, one of those "no-play" looking places, all glass and cold, streamlined metal. It had to be a super rich kids place.

Second: there weren't many cars, or any people loitering about the front, or loud music blasting out from the windows. It had me thinking if this was even a party at all.

Brent made his way to the front door, and once it swung open, the light and music stunned me into a state of numbness. _Now __**this**__ was a party. _It was way more high-end then any I'd ever been to before, but it looked like one _hell _of a place to be.

Instead of potheads lounging away on lumpy sofas, there were rigid, gaunt teenagers sitting around a simple (but expensive looking) glass table, a few miscellaneous cards and thin, powdery white lines resting on the shining surface of it. And couples didn't bother to find secrete spots, they were practically _doing it_ out in the public, but there was so much touching and grinding and kissing everywhere that is was barely noticeable amongst the crowd.

When we passed a sliding-glass door I peered out; the backyard was even more chaotic. I could see the young DJ surrounded by giant speakers at a corner of the concrete patio, a little ways away from the giant pool at the center. Only a few people swam around in the pale-blue water, tinted yellow by the lights within. Most of the people were just around the edges, half-naked, cups raised in the air as they swayed to the noise.

Already I got that numb feeling from the party, as if nothing was really real. Everything was sharper and I could see the grit of it all mixed in with the glamour, I couldn't even feel my hands anymore, no matter how hard I dug my nails into them. Worse feelings were obvious in the others around: pupils dilated, eyelids droopy, limbs weak; it was like watching the unrated version of a nightclub, the colors and drinks no longer alluring, no longer enticing; only the dark side remained. And by then you were too drunk—you were in too deep—to notice a thing.

I follow closely to Brent, people quickly moving out of his way as he seemingly floated through the crowd. We found our way to the kitchen, where he opened the giant, steel fridge; and from the cold he quickly produced two bottles of beer, as if he knew exactly where everything was. He popped them open before handing me one and taking a huge gulp of his.

"Want to take a dip in the pool?" he asked after a satisfied "_ah_".

I smiled while taking a drink, "Your make-up will run if we did."

Brent laughed, "True, so true."

Then there was that silence. Not awkward or tense, but a pleasant pause; an intermission of conversation, that we both understood and appreciated. We let one another to our own thoughts, small smiles ever present on our faces. _I would think about him, the things he said and did that made me smile. I wonder what he would think about?_

Brent broke the silence first, "Come with me, I want to show you something." He gave me his hand, and without a pause I took it. It wasn't _romantic_ right? This wasn't _dating_ right? He was just being friendly. We weren't _together_…right?

Heading up to the roof of the place, I half expected to encounter an elevator. But there were just plain, plush-carpet covered stairs.

Out on the deck the wind was chilly and relaxing, I felt on top of the world. The party music but a faint noise in the distance, and those city lights…from here they were breathtaking, wavering yellow specks against the purple smog and blue-black. And the sky! I'd never seen so many stars before, had never seen the moon so full and bright as it was right at this moment. They winked at me, those stars, and I felt like if I just reached out I could snatch the moon from his dark bed. But no, I think I'll keep him there, _just so I can keep staring at him_…

I glance at Brent as I think of this. And he catches me.

"It's gorgeous," I smile quickly, to cover up my gawking, "I've never seen anything like it before."

"I'm glad you like it. I thought you would." He pulls up two chairs to the railing, close to one another, and motions for me to sit. _He moves even closer_ to me once we've sat. Then we just sit drinking; watching the sky and the city lights glow.

After a while he says, "Hey Alexis, I was wondering about something."

"Hmn?" comes my response.

"About your mom."

"What about her?" I say it slowly, so I don't choke on my words.

"Is it true? About how she died?"

I need to clear my throat before, "Yeah."

"Is that the reason you look at the Joker like you're going to kill him? And when he's with Harley you look all disgusted."

"Yeah." I do my best to keep my deep shuddering breaths quiet, to keep the tears at bay. I **can't **cry in front of Brent.

"He used to talk about her, about you and your sister too. He doesn't want you to see it, but he remembers her a lot. I think—Alexis?" he stops mid-sentence, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. But I wouldn't turn around, not so long as the tears are coming.

Not while the memory of my mom was newly afresh in my mind.

"Just let it out." His words are now a sweet, _soft_ _whisper_ in my ear; soothing but _exciting_ as his breath _tickles_ my cold skin. "It's okay to cry in front of me." I feel strong arms stretch around me.

His words just make me choke as I try to stop my whimpering. It just made me hurt more. My eyes pained, my throat burned, my nose was sore and my head was starting to go numb. Why wouldn't he _**stop talking**__? And just kiss me instead._

"Alexis, you can tell me anything. Please, just let it out."

And it did come out, all of my words at once in a huge rush. Full of forced words and tearful cries, that slowly dissipated as I talked.

I told him all about how my mom had fallen in love with the Joker at first glance and went out to be with him, how she worked with him for years until that night…when _Batman _had busted into their warehouse hide-out. And in an attempt to save that goddamned clown, my mom fell into a vat of their very own laughing-poison. And no one even helped her…they just left her there until the police showed up.

"It's like what the news said, but with a bit more gore then led on, I suppose, because we saw her body…and that smile…" I shuddered as I spoke.

At the end of it my body had stopped it's trembling and I found myself in Brent's lap, curled up in his arms.

He sat petting my head, just listening. "Yeah, **he** was a little messed up after that."

I scoffed, "Sure."

"No, really. Why would I lie?"

I had nothing to say to that, so instead I asked, "If you worked with him so long, why don't I remember ever seeing you?"

"We weren't allowed near you guys. I remember that rule. But I didn't know it was you back then, until I looked it up."

_Back then…_ He made it sound like it happened a century ago.

"Why couldn't you come near us? Was there a reason?"

"The clown was never very specific with those kinds of things, but I think he was just trying to protect you all, I think he really did care."

"Protect us? From what? You? You're harmless." I say it without really thinking; if I had paused for a moment I might have remembered his story; might have not said it.

But Brent just laughs, "Yeah, about as harmless as you Ace."

Those words should have stung, but all I was thinking of was how he'd used my actual name up until then. It sent my lip quivering into a smile, _I wouldn't mine being with Brent_. But how could I tell him how I felt, it was weird ever since the ride with Harley…Hmn.

_Maybe I could kiss him…and blame it on the alcohol…_

I grin like Joker at the idea.


	12. Chapter 12: I Don't Know

I studied my face in the mirror. I don't know why really, I never really cared for looks. I usually went around with bed-head and whatever I saw first in my closet that was clean. But this morning was…different? Shall we say? I woke up feeling a bit—I can't even think of the right word, uh—more careful, like I should care about myself a bit more. Is there a specifically singular word for that?

Maybe it was because today was my first day back to school. But who was there to impress at school?

As I thought about the people I had forgotten about over the summer, I found myself snipping at the ends of my hair with a small pair of silver clippers I'd found in a drawer.

There was Alice. _Snip Snip! _And Cassandra and her sister Blanca. _Snip! _And Tommy and Richard. _Snip Snip! _And—damn—what was that one girls name again?

Now my hair was really short, coming just down to my chin. Ashley puts on eyeliner and mascara and eye shadow, she said it made your eyes look bigger. Maybe I should try it. We looked identical, but Ashley had always been in a whole other level of sexy whenever her make-up was on. Maybe—

Make-up? I was actually thinking of make-up now? What next: mini-skirts and halter-tops? I shook my head; the hair was enough; so to clear my mind I took the coldest shower imaginable.

The white tiled walls seemed to close all around me, each droplet of water an icy bullet that pelted my shivering skin. All I did was stand there, I don't know how long, trying to keep my breathing even, though my lungs were shuddering from the temperature. But I felt like myself again. I think.

As I got dressed my sister appeared in the doorway.

She took one look at my old pants and faded army jacket and just said, "No, no." and walked over to my drawers, pulled out a pair of ripped up jeans and then a plaid button-up from the closet, both still laden with their tags.

A retort bubbled up in my throat, but I swallowed it down, I didn't want to have another fight with Ashley, we were still trying to smooth things over, our words teetering on the edges of an argument, and it was too damn early in the morning. Instead I put on what she gave me. And the whole time I'm getting ready, all I can think about is how fucking _annoying _school was. I didn't want to go back, not today or any other day. But Ashley would murder me.

"You'll have to eat in the car, I'm bringing you to school, since you've already missed the bus."

I nod in response.

School days were always like this. Boring, plain, uneventful. Me and Ashley didn't talk much during the school year, because we both hated the topic of _"How was your day at school?" _and I wouldn't get home until late afternoon, and even then I'd have homework, and by the time I'd finish, Ashley would be gone for work.

Dinner alone. Bus home alone. Classes alone. I was lucky if the people I did tolerate showed up to school at all, if they didn't I'd sit alone at lunch and recess, at the same table in the corner of the hubbub, reading and eating. Alone.

I never noticed how alone I was before, probably because it never bothered me. But all summer I'd been with someone, and I'd been really happy. Whether I was with my sister and her douche boyfriend or Brent and the clowns. I wonder if Brent went to school? He could have already graduated but—I don't know.

In the car, all the way to the high school, Ashley sang "Back to School Again" from _Grease 2_, skipping some lyrics but then remembering them and then having to start all over again. If she hadn't been driving, I know she would have danced along to the words. I sat there, just laughing quietly and eating French toast.

"Oh! You have your schedule?" Ashley asks, just as I get out of the car. I nod, smile and wave her good-bye, as she pulls away I'm rummaging through my bag to check if I really do have it. I pull it out, all nice and untouched since registration, and scan it over. I hadn't even thought about it. Hadn't thought about school at all since last night, when Ashley reminded me.

I stroll down the halls, buried in it, trying to figure out where everything was: My first class that day would be AP Chemistry, and then there was Calculus, then recess, then Creative Writing, then lunch then Art. Not bad. Way better then my sophomore schedule: where PE was first and math was at the end of the day. As that rolled around in my mind I thought, that maybe my senior year would be good after all.

But my good luck stopped at the schedule.

First, none of my usual friends had bothered to come to school.

Second, in AP Chemistry we were assigned lab partners. At first I was paired with a girl named Jennifer, which I loved because she was extremely smart. But then, Travis, who happened to also be in my class, got up and gave the teacher a whole speech about how it was unfair that the two of us be partners because we were supposedly the smartest in class. The teacher finally gave in, split us up, and I ended up with Travis. It was obvious Jennifer wanted him as her partner so, "Excuse me ma'am, but could you stick him," I jab a thumb at Travis, "With Jennifer? They'd work way better to—". The teacher just cut me off: so Chemistry was going to suck.

Third, my Calculus teacher was a complete dolt. I would still ace the class, but she was the type that thought she was right about everything and thought she knew everything too. So that class would be annoying as hell. At recess I could at least keep my mind off things as I went to pay for my lunch money, and I had high hopes as I walked to Creative Writing, but when class began, there were two things majorly wrong. Leading to

Fourth. I was feeling good when I first entered the door; there were small nametags on the desks, and mine was all the way in the back corner, right near the window; an amazing seat sure but then—**it was right next Travis [**majorly-wrong-thing-number-one]. It was like he was following me. And as the tardy bell rang and we all took our seats, _majorly-wrong-thing-number-two _happened. Mr. Benson walked through the door.

And as he did, well, all the girls started giggling of course. He just gave his dorky smile.

And as he did, well, all the girls started giggling of course. Then he started to talk.

And as he did, well, all the girls started giggling—_of course._

"Sorry I'm late class." Is what he said, as he took the seat behind his desk. "Let's begin. As most of you will know, I'm Mr. Benson. I used to teach AP Language Arts last year, but there's a new teacher, so I was moved. I hope none of you mind." Of course no one did, well, no one but me; and as he scanned the class, taking in the faces, I knew he could sense my utter loathing in the corner, because his eyes flitted over me just for a second before he cleared his throat and glanced quickly away.

"Anyway, since it's the first day, I think we should start with some ice-breakers. But none of that "human knot" stuff; this is Creative Writing. So you _will _have to write, and I think that a persons writing says a lot about them as a person. So, I'll give you all the next half hour to write something, anything, let your imagination soar, write me a fiction, a poem, a rant, anything that comes to mind. Your time begins now." Another one of his smiles, and then pencils were scribbling away.

I was done in ten minutes. For the rest of the time I contented in staring out the window. A tree was right outside, nicely blocking the sun, the rays of it creating a golden glow around the dark silhouette, the grass beneath it nicely dappled and freshly cut. The leaves moved gracefully in the wind, and when I listened hard I could just imagine the sound of them as they swayed in the breeze.

But then I caught the conversation of the two girls in front of me, and of course, it was about Mr. Benson.

"I heard he has an eight-pack." The blonde girl in front of me said to the brunette next to her.

"I wonder if he has a cut?" was the reply.

"It's a six pack," I heard myself say out loud, "And a 6-inch cut, at least."

"And how would you know?"

I look over to my right and, yeah, it was Travis who asked it.

"I've seen it, how else would I know?" my voice is plain, as I remember the time I first saw him in my sisters' room.

"How would _you _have seen it?" the blonde looked pissed, like I slept with her boyfriend.

"Don't worry honey, I'm not barking up your eye candy."

"Alexis?" Mr. Benson says, and the whole class looks over.

I just lean back in my chair, my eyebrow raised, "_Yes sir?"_

"You're talking, so is it safe to assume that you're done with your work?" he says, unfazed.

"_Oh, it's never safe to assume sir. _But yes, I think I'm done."

"Good," he smiles, but a bit more mischievously then usual, "Then you can share first." I pick up my paper and take a breath to start but then, "Stand up please Alexis." I stand, and then finally begin:

"_Feathers are in the air. My feathers. And they fly away from me. Drifting away on the wind. As I fall from the golden clouds I can do nothing, nothing but fall. And when the last of the feathers of my wings are pulled off, the bones of them begin to come apart, too, and as they fly up, above me, they disappear, evaporating into the air that does not care to catch me._

_I'm falling, and there is nothing I can do. I cannot see how close I am to the Earth now, but I can see as the Heavens fall away from me, see how much farther they are. The clouds are still there, though, soft and willowy, smeared across the pale blue sky, hinting of blue and violet and pink and gold. I reach out my arm, as far as I can, expecting to feel the soft tendrils of those clouds, their cool vapor, but I feel nothing._

_There is nothing._

_And I keep falling. I prepare to feel the crash of the Earth below me, breaking my back, but even that does not come. I fall past even that. Deep into the abyss, a huge fissure in the Earth's face, and when I fall through the cusp of the mortal world the ground closes above me. But still I fall. _

_Without even the sky above me for comfort, as I descend. And I cannot stand the sight of the void sky. And so I shut my eyes. Then…_

_There is nothing._

_But the dark."_

Once I finish I sit down, and the class just stares at me for a moment.

"Excellent, Alexis. Thank you, now Travis. Your turn." Mr. Benson says after a moment. Surprisingly, Travis hesitates. I've never seen him do that before. It was just a fleeting moment, but it had still happened, Travis was about to object, but just stood up instead. Then he took a while to start. "Anytime you're ready."

I held my breath, why? It was like I was preparing myself for something unexpected, l thought that Travis' writing would be so heartfelt, so perfect and beautiful: I don't know why I felt that way, it was just a feeling. And then—

"_Do you ever feel? Like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind? Wanting to start again. Do you ever feel? Feel so paper thin, like a house of cards. One blow from caving in."_ he didn't sing it, just spoke the lyrics like normal, rhythm-less, sentences.

"_Do you ever feel already buried deep!"_ some loud boy up front, Bronson, yelled out with a grin.

"Alright now," said Mr. Benson, "I guess we can all see what's on Travis' mind." He chuckled.

Bronson was the first that laughed, and the whole class followed.

But had they seen that moment? Where Travis stared at his paper and hesitated, like I had? I know there was more to him then that, there were more words then _Firework _lyrics on that paper…

Travis looked over at me and smiled, or was that a smirk? It was somewhere in between, but it confirmed: that he was just that smart-ass-class-jokester. I turned away to look out the window again; I was just over thinking things.

Later, I glance back at Travis for a split second; he's still looking at me, with that stupid smile.

Yeah. That pool definitely didn't run as deep as I tried to give him credit for.

I like turkey sandwiches. The ones at school at least, I know most food from the school was…questionable. But the turkey sandwiches were actually really good, and I was lucky enough to snag one. So I sat there, in my shady corner, under a big tree at a cold stone table, that only had two seats, munching on my sandwich, while I read my book.

Romeo and Juliet. I imagined Juliet lamenting in my mind: _Where for art thou, Romeo?_

"Alas," came a voice, it was a strange thing to hear, that specific line, in the perfect accent, but I ignored it, "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east. And Juliet is the sun." I look up, because the voice seems to continue from right across of me; and it's Travis, sitting on the other bench, with a plate of food in front of him, smiling at me.

I have to give a small smirk as I turn back to my book, but I shake my head, "You insist on bothering me today, don't you?"

"Mhn, I noticed that I bothered you last year; and the year before that, and the year before that too. In fact, we shared a lot of the same classes since freshman year. But, you seem to be the only one that hasn't succumbed to my…charms. Yet you've been exposed to them the most."

"You make yourself sound like a disease."

He chuckles, "Maybe I am."

"What did you want from me again?" I ask.

"To talk, that's all. We've known each other for three years, and we've never talked. It's a shame really."

"You think so?" I observe him for a moment, and then go back to reading. There's a long pause, and I assume he's left, so I pick up on my eating.

But then he starts talking again, "I liked your poem by the way, the one you read in class."

I take a minute to digest this, "Thank you."

"And I was wondering, were you describing the descent of Lucifer and his fallen angels, after the War of Heaven, or were you talking about yourself?"

"Do you need to know?"

"My life might very well depend on it." He smiles.

"Tell me about your writing first."

"I read it, you heard it."

"Bull. I know you wrote something else, you were about to read it, but didn't."

"Ah, compromising." He grinned.

Again, back to my book. Yet…I can't concentrate on it. I'm thinking about what Travis had written, what was so strange, that he wouldn't share it to the rest of the class? He was such an open book—or was he?

"If you let me read what you wrote, I'll tell you about the poem." I say.

"Never gonna happen."

Damn, it just made me want to read it that much more.

"Fine." Is all I say, and the bell rings for the last period.

"Hey, we should talk more, I kind of like it." And then he's gone.

I sigh to myself. What the hell was all that? All he did was keep me from my book and interrupt my peace…though I admit; the conversation wasn't too bad.

I go to clean up the table, but Travis' tray is gone, along with my trash, the table and chair clear, like he had never been there…well, save the folded piece of paper. It had to be Travis' poem, what else would it be? But why would he leave it, after he said I'd never get to read it?

I don't know.

This was why I never tried to understand some people.


	13. Chapter 13: Burn, Baby

I watch the school burn to the ground with a smile on my face. I can feel the warmth of the fire on my skin, even though I'm all the way across the road. Something cracks, and I can see the dark silhouette of my Art building crumble within the flames, with a smoldering _thud. _The black smoke rises thick, curling into the chilly night air, I revel in the small sparks that crackle away, melting into the shine of the stars. I chuckle a little, and then turn on my heel. And as I walk away from my masterpiece, all I can think of is how the inferno makes me want a cigarette.

When I got home from school that first day, I found Mr. Benson's car already in the driveway. I scowled at the sight, even though I had promised Ashley to be civil with him, I could still hate the bastard. I don't know why I hated him really—oh no wait, I did know. It was because Kevin had _bought _my sisters relationship. Yeah, they were probably having sex without a transaction, but a guy who would go out and knowingly, soberly, buy a prostitute, was just no good. But I thought, at least he didn't hit her.

But damn was I wrong.

When I walk into the front door, I find Ashley on the floor, crying, holding a hand to her face. And there's Kevin Benson standing over her, preparing to pick up my whimpering sister.

Without thinking, without even shutting the door, I drop my bag and keys and just charge at my English teacher. He doesn't notice me until I'm just a foot away, giving me the chance to relocate his freaking jaw.

I didn't relocate his jaw really, I wish I did. But he still fell back; I go to sit on top of him so I can give him a flurry of fists, but my sister rushes to me and pulls me off.

"No Alexis!" she screams, I allow myself to be forced away by my sister, but then regret it as I watch as she gently touches the dizzy Mr. Benson's jaw, "Are you okay?" she coos.

Disgusted I shout, "He shouldn't be hitting you!"

"It's fine, Alex. I provoked him." Her voice is soft as she continues to fawn over Kevin.

"FUCK THIS!" I bark as I rush up the stairs to my room.

As I reach into my drawer for my gun I can hear his voice as he comes to, "Screw this! I'm out of here!"

"Kevin no!" my sister wails.

"I'm going back to work Ash."

I quickly check to see that the gun is loaded, and then cock the hammer of the revolver as I rush down the stairs. But when I reach the front door, Mr. Benson is already driving off.

"Fuck!" I yell.

"Alexis!" my sister is crumpled on the floor, "What are you doing with that?" she exclaims. I just look at her, her eyes puffy and blood-shot, tears running down her cheeks, her skin…running off?

I go over to her, I decock and gently place the gun on the floor, and wipe her face with my shirt—the concealer comes off all smudgy, but I can still see the bruises underneath.

"Ashley, how many times has he hit you?"

My sister just laughs, "Such shitty foundation."

I think she's in shock, but I'm no doctor. "Come on sis." I lead her up the stairs and tuck her into bed.

As I pluck the gun from the living room floor and go to return it, I'm already formulating ideas.

_If Ashley didn't want me to commit murder, fine. _**I **_wouldn't be the one to kill that bitch then._

I decide to bus it down to the gas station near the school, and there I buy some matches and a couple gas cans, then fill them up. The cashier didn't even find me suspicious, she just kept reading some magazine and popping her bubblegum. I stole a wagon after that, I'd seen it, abandoned on the side near some dying bushes, turned on its side, and now I load the gas cans into it and stroll along the sidewalk, in the fading day. The roads empty, everything quiet.

The gate to the school parking lot was simple to cross, I just needed to duck, but the wagon wouldn't fit through, so I ended up grabbing up the gas cans, two at a time, and placing them on the nearby grass.

I checked the time, past nine, perfect, since they turned off the surveillance cameras at eight. The next challenge would be the fire alarm, but I knew how to get rid of that issue fast. I found the green fuse box quickly, a huge green cube of metal that I knew held all the switches for every light bulb, bell and alarm in the school. There was another cube of gated mesh around it, probably to protect it from people like me.

Like I did in the alley that fateful night, I kicked off the lock, only this time I knew exactly what I was doing. I open up the gate and stoop into the small cubicle, I pick the second lock open; as it's embedded into the green steel; and inside I find all the switches labeled. Perfect, _just for me_, I smile.

I switch off _Fire Alarms _before moving on. Swiftly yet thoroughly I take up two gas cans and start pouring them around the school building I know Mr. Benson is in, whistling while I work; it was an old building, so I hoped it would feed my soon-to-be fire nicely.

And finally I took up another can and poured it along as I walked, from a gas puddle outside through the halls of the building, to the door of my Creative Writing class, still whistling _"Twisted Nerve" _all the while. Maybe I was as crazy as the Joker was. Maybe.

"Hello." I say to Kevin, whose sitting behind his desk, hunched over some papers, a cigarette poised between his fingers. The line of smoke it emits entices me, but I bit back the urge.

"Alexis?" he says, looking up, "What are you doing here?" I hated how he did that, pretended that nothing ever happened.

"Better question: what are you doing here so late?"

"Uh…schedules." He says, still gawking at me, trying to think why I was there, I suppose.

"You smoke?"

"Yeah, I know its bad," he stubs it out, "But—"

"Oh, no, no. It's actually _perfect._"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it'll make this look like an accident." I smile at him.

"What?"

But before I can let him think anything else I dump gasoline all over him, he sputters and tries to rub it from his eyes, and I take that moment to take out the matches. I take my time pulling one out and striking it, I even bask in the burning-wood smell of it. Then he looks at me, and the last thing he saw was my middle finger before I flicked the match at him.

He combusts almost instantly, and screams like a madman as he runs down the halls, lighting up the rest of the building along his way.

I watch the fire for a bit, and love how the flames lick the walls, scorching them black, love the slow burning wood that's now full of glowing embers. Then I turn from the scene, and push open the window; one last look at my seat in the back corner, damn that was a good seat; and I climbed out. The grass crunches slightly under my shoes, as I head for the left over gas cans, the sight of them make me giddy, because that meant more fuel for my fire.

I had really only done this to get Mr. Benson, but I had enjoyed the sight of the blaze so much that I wanted more. Much more. And joyously I emptied the rest of the containers, all around the school, hopping and skipping and jumping along, the fire slowly following my trail.

Then when I backed away, across the street, the whole place just caught, transforming into this huge, glowing, seething mass. The smell of it dense in the air, and I love it. As the flames dance, my eyes sparkle like the sparks.

And I smile as I watch the school burn.


	14. Chapter 14: Another Morning After

When I wake up the next morning my mind and vision are blurry, I feel nothing but the soft blankets, enveloping me in warmth. I want to stay there and bury my face into the pillow I find myself cuddling with. And I do. I don't know how many times I woke up before falling back into the comfort of my bed. The daylight streaming into the window suggests that it's well past the time I would normally have to wake up, but still I lay there, not caring about school; school was gone, burnt up in my vengeful inferno.

Finally I wrench myself awake, because my prolonged rest caused my stomach to grumble angrily. I get out of bed slowly, groggily, taking forever to straighten out the sheets. As I shuffle around I come across my clothes from last night, blackened by smoke and reeking of it too; I'd have to wash that without Ashley noticing.

Ashley.

Quietly I slink my way to her room, only to find her still knocked out in bed. I take that chance to gather up my clothes and rush them downstairs to the washer, and then start on breakfast, might as well make something for Ashley, return the favor.

As I cook, I don't even hear her come down from her room, but I hear the TV buzz on, and the flickering noise as the channels are being flipped through. Ashley stops on the news; I can hear the familiar, annoying voices of the newscast droning on as I mix the batter for pancakes.

As I pour the batter into the pan I hear a the female reporter say in a serious tone, _"In other news: Tragedy has struck uptown Gotham._ _Officials found Gotham High School burnt to the ground this morning. It is believed that it had burned all night, leaving only a dark smoldering mass behind. Although it is not known why the alarms at the school did not warn the fire stations, officials believe they have located the source of the fire. We now go over to Lloyd Goodman for more."_

"_Thank you Amy," _says a male voice, as I picture the screen switching over to the news reporter at the school. I can even hear the bustle of sirens and chatter in the background, "_I'm here at the scene of the fire. As you can see there is nothing left from this blaze but a pile of ashes and scalding bricks. I have here with me the head of the fire department, Chief Daniels. Chief Daniels, will you tell us how this fire started?"_

A gruffer male's voice, "_Well, there isn't much to go on, but sources say that there was a teacher here at the time of the blaze; a Mr. Kevin Benson, and he was a smoker, and the building he worked in was an old one, it didn't have the modern insulation that the newer buildings have. Now there has been a single corpse found amongst the wreckage, but we are still unsure as to whether it is Mr. Benson."_

"_Is that all officials have to go on right now?" _Lloyd asks.

"_I'm afraid so. The fire was left burning for so long that it's destroyed virtually every other piece of evidence or information from the scene. We're on the verge of just filing this whole thing as a tragic accident." _This is Chief Daniels final word, and I can hear the scene switch back to the newsroom.

Amy begins again, "_As of this moment millionaire Bruce Wayne is said to me building a new school just a few streets away from the first, on one of the cities outskirts. It will take a week to complete, and until then students are asked to just continue their studies alone at home." _She pauses and then continues, starting another story, but I'm not listening anymore.

I'm too busy watching as the beautiful flames sparkle and crack before my imagination. Picturing the rubble of it, blackened and grey, still blossoming with red-hot embers. Small wisps of dark smoke curl up and around my mind, fogging my senses with the delicious scent of it.

"How did you know school was out?" the voice pulls me from my fantasizing, and I see Ashley standing in the entryway of the kitchen, and—I've never seen her look so bad before. Huddled up under a huge quilt I hadn't seen since our grandmother died, mane a tangled mess, make-up smeared, bruises blushing through on the pale skin. She looked tired, her eyes haggard; caked with bags of a sleep wrought with horrible hallucinations and blood-shot from the fresh mourning of her dead boyfriend. And it was my entirely my fault.

And still I found myself lying easily to her face. "A friend called and told me." I don't even feel guilty about it, about anything.

Without words I pull out a chair for her, and obediently she sits; I pour her some orange juice and flip some pancakes onto a plate for her, syrup? A nod. Silently she eats, and as she does, I sit beside her and I comb out her wild strands of hair, gently wipe off her make-up.

"I'll take a shower after this." She says feebly. I just nod.

It's like that for the next week, quiet, no words, just the actions. Ashley doesn't go to work, and I don't have school, and so I stay at home. For that week I took care of her; _of her_; and not her aching heart. That she would have to get over herself.

Brent came around every night, and every night I'd have to tell him, "Not today," and he too, silently, without words, would go about his own business. Every time I watched him drive away, I felt a little tug, somewhere in my chest, which made me feel really stupid. But blood was thicker then wine, and I was so relieved that he understood that.

"Sis?" Ashley said to me one night, "Who's that that always shows up in the nice car?" she leans against the doorframe of the kitchen with a drink as I wash the dinner dishes, soup up to my elbows.

"A friend." I reply to the suds.

"A _girl _friend?"

"No. A boy."

"Oh." A small smirk makes the corner of her mouth twitch, "A _boyfriend."_

"No. Just a boy, that's a friend."

"Will I get to meet him?"

I look at her for a moment. "I don't think you'd like him."

"I like your other friends. How different could he be?"

"Well, he's not like them really. He's—worse, I guess. He doesn't smoke, and he doesn't have piercings but…he'll do things that they wouldn't even dream of."

"Ooh!" My sister's trademark smile was back, "So he's _**bad**__."_

I knew when my sister thought '_bad_' she thought of a bunch of different things: hot guys in leather on motorcycles, that drink nothing but hard liquor at the busiest bars in town, who hung out with the richest people but always wore that grungy look.

But when _I _thought of '_bad' _I imagined clown masks and guns and murder and blood and grins—

I stare into the soapy water, pausing with the sponge against a plate. "Yeah," I say quietly, a smile pulling up my lips, "Yeah, he's pretty _bad_."


End file.
